Noir et Bleu, Black and Blue
by Sneezy
Summary: Ranma Noir crossover. Set just after the end of Noir, and 10 years after Ranma.
1. Goodbye

** Noir et Bleu**  
  
(or Black and Blue)  
  
A Ranma ½ and Noir Continuance  
  
This little fic is set ten years after the end of Ranma, and just after the end of Noir. Don't know what Noir is? There's info down at the bottom that will give you enough info to get into it. I've tried not to make specific reference to any events that will spoil the end of Noir for those of you who haven't seen it. I'll also fill in some background so people who haven't seen Noir can understand things anyway.  
  
The rating is for violence, occasional swearing, and angsty-ness not 'adult' themes. If I miss on any of the technical details in the fic, especially with regard to firearms, please let me know. I don't have any personal experience with them, but I did do some research before I started writing so I think I should be able to avoid any total howlers.  
  
The overall tone will be darker than Ranma, but similar to Noir.  
  
Noir is set in 2010, so when this fic starts, it's 2011.  
  
I don't own either series, etc.  
  
**Chapter 1 – Sayonara**  
  
I was just sitting around at my desk, filling out a bit of paperwork when the call came through to head to the Captain's office. I levered myself out of my chair, feeling every second of my 26 years, and another ten or twenty on top of that. Does that not sound that old to you? When you live the life that I do, it's a damn long time. Especially after last night, when that hotshot street fighter punk got himself set up to challenge me to see what I had. I was still feeling a couple bruises from that one. Sometimes it's real hard to take people down without hurting them too bad, and without doing anything that's going to make everyone look at you like you're some sort of freak.  
  
So I pulled my jacket off the back of the chair and headed off to see what the Cap wanted. Yeah, I'm a police officer; detective Saotome at your service and all that. I'm kept around here to handle all the weird stuff that nobody else wants to deal with or think about. That, and some really scary shit that nobody else can deal with. I guess this little visit is about a new partner, since I lost my last one when I was dealing with those crazy guys who set themselves up in the top two floors of a hotel thinking they were the new incarnation of the ancient middle eastern assassin's cult. Or something like that; I was never one hundred percent clear what they were talking about.  
  
Anyway, I don't figure they'll get many volunteers for the job. I've had more than my fair share of turnover really. Some can't deal with all the nutcases I have to deal with between big jobs when everyone's shovelling crap onto my desk. Like Shingo, who was really good up until we had to deal with that crazy old fruit-fist master. I hear he still can't sit in a room with a pear in it for too long.  
  
Of course, there's some who can't deal with me turning into a chick. Some prefer me as a chick, and end up with broken arms and the like after they get too friendly. Some of them figure they can keep up with me when I tell them to stay low. I try and tell them that nothing kills better than a bullet, even if we don't see that many guns here in Japan, but some of them don't listen. Of course, a poisoned bullet kills better, but I only ran into one guy who used those. Whatever the case, none of them hang around for too long. My curse gets to all of them eventually.  
  
Naw, now don't get me wrong, the whole water, man and woman deal is only part of the problem. I mean the other one. The one where it's the ramen joint I go to that the armed robbers try to knock off. The one where the old guy who saw the thief is the local Yakuza Obayan. The one where most of the people I meet either want to kill me, lay me, or sometimes both. Who wants to put up with being dragged into that sort of crap all the time? And recently I gotta say things have been spiralling more and more out of control, and becoming more and more violent.  
  
I haven't gotten away from it, and I haven't met anyone who wants to hang around and enjoy the fun along with me. Over time I've ended up with a bit of a reputation as well. When you end up in the sort of situations I do as many times as I have, people are bound to start asking whether the police are really still around to protect people's lives and keep the peace. Keep the peace? Feh. Welcome to my life, folks. The 'Ran' kanji in my name can be read as 'chaos', and I figure it's there for a reason; some sorta cosmic coincidence or something like that.  
  
The Panda eventually got too old. Hell, it's tiring for me, and he couldn't take it no more. It conflicted with Mom's sense of normalcy too much, and her ideas of what was manly and what wasn't conflicted too much with mine. As much as it hurts, I don't see her that often. Nabiki and Kasumi got the hell away when they could, although Nabs pays a visit every once in a while just for the thrill. Cologne eventually figured that she didn't want my blood in the tribe after all, if this was what happened to me. Or at least that's what I figure. The old bat dragged the other two off about seven years ago, and I haven't heard from any of them since. Most of the others just drifted away, sucked off into a turbulent eddy of my passing, and settled down when they found themselves far away from me, and liking the quiet. Ukyo was like that, and I can't blame her at all. I hear Hoikkaido is real nice this time of year.  
  
Akane( well, we're friends now, but she's the one person I want away from me. Most of the others, I couldn't care less, but it's not safe near me, and if there's anything I want it's for her to be safe. For a long time I thought I could protect her by throwing myself in the way of everything near her, but what's the chance that I'll be able throw myself in the way of everything, for ever? Zero, and we both know it. So I head over and talk with her when I can get away. I teach a couple lessons in her dojo once in a while. I make her other guys jealous, because after all this time, we're closer than... well I'm closer to her than anyone else.  
  
A couple of times we've found ourselves meeting up more and more, and doing stuff together more and more. Getting sucked towards each other by history we share with each other that nobody else can understand. And then I run, because I don't want her to be dragged back in and just like she let me know two years ago, she doesn't want to be part of what's happening in my life now anyway.  
  
Don't get me wrong, she's not a weak girl or nothing. It's nothing to do with strength, or being brave, or being emotional, or anything like that at all. It's because of what life has made me do and what I'll probably have to keep doing. Maybe more importantly, it's what I've been changed into by what I've done. So for now I just have to keep on going. Live in the moment. Anyway, so because of all of that and more I suppose, I'm walking down to the Captain's office to get myself a new partner.  
  
Two hours later, I'm walking out back to my desk with my head spinning a bit. Even for me, this is a strange one. No new partner. Just one hell of a new assignment. So now I've got a week to get my stuff together, and get to Paris. As in France. And the only French I speak has to do with food, and the only reason I knew that was because of that crazy French guy Piccolette and his martial arts eating challenge. At least I think that's what his name was.  
  
So I wander back to my desk, saying goodbye to the people I want to as I head past them. Not too many of those in the department even now, but there's a few people who've put up with me and my crazy cases better than most. I grab some of my personal stuff off my desk, and leave it with all the clutter and paper left on it. If they want to, they can deal with it while I'm away, 'cause I sure as hell ain't gonna do it for them. So I wave goodbye, and head out the door. Three hours later, after I've dealt with a bit of other business, I'm standing outside the dojo waiting for Akane to finish her lessons for the day.  
  
My pops and Mr. Tendo are there, sitting around, playing Go as usual. They don't say anything, and neither do I. They still figure that there's a chance that I'll get together with Akane sometime, but they've learnt not to even mention it anymore. It's the tail end of summer but it's still a pretty warm day, so I lean up against the wooden wall of the dojo, feeling the grain of its wood on my back, the early summer sun on my face, and the grass underneath my feet. I have to admit that it feels good. Sorta like coming home to something. Listening to the Kiai of the students in the dojo behind me, I can almost imagine that I'm back to being sixteen, and I'm free of the pain and weariness that life has brought me since. Adventure is fine to face when there's people to face it with you. If nobody else is interested, then you have to face it by yourself, again and again and again. Sometimes, just once in a while you understand, when I'm lying on my back alone in my craphole apartment at night I wonder if it would just be easier to catch a bullet, instead of dodging them all the time. But that would be like giving up in the middle of a fight, and if there's one thing that I'd never, never do, it's that.  
  
The students exit the dojo beside me, some of them pointing and snickering at me. I never was really respectable, and now I suppose I look like a cheap hood except for the badge hanging on my belt. A policeman's salary won't buy you nice suits, especially considering just how many I wreck. Ah well. I wait for a couple minutes to give Akane a chance to clean up a bit, and then poke my head around the corner of the door to see how she's doing. Of course, the pail of dirty water she was mopping over the floor hits me right in the face, and suddenly I'm standing there in a wet suit that's way too big for me, and a mop of messy red hair that plasters itself all over my face. My girl side just doesn't like hair as short as my guy side has so it changes length every time I switch forms. It freaked me out for a while when it first happened, but then I suddenly realised that growing three extra inches of hair is nothing compared to growing breasts. Akane giggles, and my heart warms up when I hear it. Gods, sometimes it just feels too good to be around her.  
  
Later when the sun's gone down, Akane and I are in the kitchen together making dinner. She's in something nice, and with the apron on, she makes me think a bit of Kasumi. Not as good a cook of course, but I'm not gonna say anything about that. I'm wearing some cast offs of hers. I mean, I'm still smaller than her when I'm in girl form, even though I've grown a bit. Thank the Gods my girl side grew taller, but not any chestier than I was. It's hard enough dealing with all that weight out there as it is. So why am I still a girl? Well, sometimes it's just easier to be around Akane that way. I don't ever find myself standing close to her, with her looking up at me with a grin on her face that she only gives me, fighting the urge to wrap my arms around her and bury my nose in the hair on top of her head.  
  
I know you're wondering, am I still that crazy about her? Sometimes I think yes, sometimes I think no. But what's most important is that she isn't that mad about me, so I gotta respect that and give her some space. I mean, I know she's dated other guys sometimes. Of course I've dated too, but really only a couple of times. Girls who are 'normal' just aren't interesting compared to the girls I've known, and the interesting ones always seem to have a bit too much in common with Kodachi. In the last couple years the dating pool at work has dried up anyway. If I didn't know better, I'd think that Shingo was bad mouthing me behind my back. But he doesn't have any reason to do that. I didn't laugh at him for too long after that fruit-fu master took that pear and... anyway, it's all good. After all the troubles I had in the past with girls, I'm not real eager to start that off again. That and the one time I thought something might work out, it ... just wasn't possible. Maybe it's some sort of other curse, I dunno.  
  
I give a mental shrug and toss some ingredients across the room, turning them into a fine julienne as I do, and throw her a cocky grin. It's only her that sees that grin now. Not even the people I fight do.  
  
So much later on, after we've made small talk with the two old guys until they've gone off to bed, we're free to talk to each other for a bit.  
  
"Hey Akane, I'm gonna be going away for a while," I say, bringing things up subtly as always.  
  
"Really? Where? And how long?" she asks me.  
  
"Well, I'm not sure about how long, but I'm heading to Paris actually."  
  
"Paris! Wow, I've always wanted to see Paris! Why are the police spending money to send a good for nothing like you over there?"  
  
"It's something pretty serious. There seem to be these two hitmen based there, and they've been taking on a bunch of jobs all over the place. Leaving plenty of bodies behind and such. One of them might just be from Japan, they're really not sure. But the thing is that the police there have messed with them a couple of times and they've always come off pretty bad. Someone there heard about me, and asked for a transfer. Greased some gears up somewhere in the department, and now I'm heading there to see what I can do."  
  
"It sounds pretty dangerous, Ranma. I mean, I'm proud that they're coming to you for help, but don't do anything stupid, ok?" She says with a little frown on her face.  
  
"I'll be careful, ok? Hey look, I mean I've even already learnt the French for 'keep your hand off my ass you pervert' so I'm sure I'll be ok," I say, carefully avoiding the real point of what she's saying. "I promise I'll come back to Japan, so don't be worrying or anything, ok?"  
  
"I won't worry then," she says with a smile. "If you promise me something, I know you'll follow through. Did you stop by for anything else other than to say bye?"  
  
"Yeah, I was wondering if I could borrow the dojo a few times over the next couple of days when you don't have students. I want to cut loose a bit, and around here is the only place that people aren't going to freak out if they see battle auras and stuff. It can get tiring to hold back all the time."  
  
"Sure thing, as long as you help me teach a couple classes, freeloader."  
  
"No prob, Tomboy," I say with a grin.  
  
We clean up a bit, and head off to bed. I still use the guest room when I stop by here; it gives a real sense of permanence to our friendship, I gotta say. Now, call me what you like, but I didn't tell her that if I die over there, they'll ship me back here anyway, so either way I'll end up back in Japan. Yeah, I know. Why am I messing around telling little white lies like that? Well, I haven't told anyone yet, but I'm a bit worried about this one. Looking at the pictures they showed me of some of the hit sites, these two I'm going after are good.  
  
I've never really liked guns, even though I've learnt how to use one pretty well. But these two are aces. The description I got woke me up a bit as well. Two individuals. One with blond hair, probably. One with dark hair, probably. One could be Japanese. Both probably female, and young. Now what sort of young Japanese girl is off in Paris killing lots of grown men for cash? A really fucking dangerous one, that's who. And even though I haven't been around for long, I've heard the name whispered in underworld circles before. Noir. The best assassins in the world, with a history that supposedly goes back thousands of years. And I'm being sent after them.  
  
Ah well. Maybe it'll be fun, who knows? See the world, that sort of thing. Although knowing me, it would only be at high speed, since I'd be running away from a pack of psychos trying to kill me. It's wonderful to have constants in your life that you can count on, right?  
  
Speaking of which, I wasn't kidding about having learnt how to tell someone to keep their hands off my ass though. If the French are anything like that skunk that runs after the cat in the American cartoons all the time, I'm gonna have to kick some head while I'm there. If there's one other thing that's been constant over the years, it's been getting groped.  
  
**Chapter 1 Author's Notes**  
  
No, this fic isn't R/A. I do think that in the manga they're a really cute couple, and I tend to prefer stories where they get together. I just wanted to write something where they didn't end up together, for reasons that hadn't been done to death already (ie Akane dies at Jusenkyo) and that sorta made sense. I don't know if I did that well or not here. I also wanted to look at what it would do to Ranma to not be together with her, and why he wouldn't be with her. I think it probably does have profound effects on his character in the long term.  
  
Noir is an amazing, amazing series featuring a very deep plot line about two female assassins looking for answers about who they are, and who has made them the people they are. The details... well I won't get into here. You can find a few summary pages on anipike that are pretty quality. One thing that's important to know is that an organization called 'Les Soldats' or 'The Soldiers' is the vast shadowy worldwide conspiracy running things from behind the scenes. This is just so you'll know who they are when you meet up with them again in this story grin. 


	2. Taking Flight

Chapter 2 - Taking Flight  
  
The time that I had before I'd left Japan passed like a blur, as I found out just how much you have to do when you're a responsible sort of person when you're leaving the country for an indefinite period. Forwarding mail, writing a will, stopping utilities. Ok, well I didn't have to write a will but I had some savings, so I figured I should. I left 'em to my mom, with instructions to never let my dad get his hands on any of it, and to Akane if they thought it would be better.  
  
As for the flight itself, well let's just say that I had no idea how much I hated flying until I'd made my way from Japan to France. Ok, I'd flown before, but never the droning marathon that I'd suffered through. I suppose there weren't many police departments in the world who'd have the cash to fly me direct in business or first class, but it woulda been real nice. Bouncing around the globe like a ping pong ball in coach gives a vast appreciation for the comforts money can buy. I found myself thinking a few times that maybe, just maybe, Nabiki had the right idea all along. Too much noise, not enough food, bratty kids, and bad movies all conspired to make the experience somewhat worse than swimming to China. At least I got exercise then.  
  
But now I was standing here in Charles De Gaulle airport outside Paris, waiting to be met by someone. Apparently my partner and translator spoke English as well as French, so I'd just have to make do with that. They didn't have anyone on staff who was fluent in Japanese, and bringing in an outside translator on a case as dangerous as this one was pretty much out of the question. My English wasn't that great, but I figured it would be enough to let me communicate. Hopefully they'd let me do my own thing most of the time anyway.  
  
Soon, this French pretty boy police officer found me, and I met my new partner. His name was Francois Chapelle, which of course I couldn't say without mangling totally, so I just ended up having to call him Frank instead. That I could almost deal with, even if he was insisting on first names, which threw me a bit at first. He was wearing a spotless tailored suit, sunglasses, pointed shoes, an earring, and an attitude. He was even wearing a mauve shirt. Mauve. I felt like a dirty little thug standing next to him. But in the end it was ok, because I could tell that he was a martial artist, and a pretty good one, so I could communicate with him on that level. I was used to pretty boy martial artists like Tarou anyway, so it wasn't a big deal. At least he wasn't calling me femboy, or something like that. He was a few inches taller than me, but that was hardly a shock. I'd ended up at about 5'8 or 5'9, so there were a lot of guys here taller than me.  
  
We headed out and picked up a car, and started in towards the city. He said he'd show me my apartment so I could drop my stuff off, and then we could head down to the station, if I was alright. I was so jet lagged that my body had no idea what time it was supposed to be, so I figured that I'd just go ahead and work a normal day. Thumb my nose at the jet lag.  
  
"So, Ranma, what sort of martial arts have you trained in?" he asked me as we twisted through the city streets.  
  
"My own family's style. Bits and pieces of lots of things. What do you do?" I asked, knowing very well that he was a martial artist.  
  
"Ah, well I've spent time mostly with Savante, but I have studied some other styles as well. But Savante is my specialty," he said, not bluffing or boasting, so I figured he was pretty good. I thought maybe I recognised him from some magazine or something, so I figured he'd competed internationally at the very least.  
  
That was something I'd never done, since I hadn't specialised in any style other than my own enough to fight based on competition rules. The only other option were those ugly underground full contact fight-for-cash affairs, and while Pops pushed me to make some more money to support him that way, it just didn't feel right to me.  
  
"If there is someplace for us to practice, I would be honoured to spend some time sparring with you, if that would be possible," I said. I figured it couldn't hurt, and it might be fun.  
  
"Certainly, the central Paris station that we'll be working from through the duration of our stay has a gym, and I would enjoy the chance to be your sparring partner while you are here."  
  
I see the smirk he shoots me, and I know suddenly that someone has told him about some hotshot Japanese kung fu cop guy who's coming over to stick his nose in their problems and make life difficult. For the moment, I mentally file him in the 'smiles at male type but really wants to beat the crap out of me and flirts outrageously with female type despite strong physical discouragement' camp of acquaintances. We'll see though.  
  
Before I could get into brooding about anything though, the radio in the car came alive with chatter and I can see from Francois' alert look that something has just happened. Even if you can't understand the language, police bands probably sound the same no matter where you go in the world.  
  
"Ranma, it seems we might have some new evidence," he said after a while of listening, and replying. "Some sewer engineers in the twentieth district have found some bodies, about ten it seems, in their section of the tunnels. Looked like gunshot wounds. Do you feel able to go right there?"  
  
"Sure, certainly," I say. You'd have thought that the French hadn't heard of me yet, but I hadn't even been here half a day and my partner's first plan for the remainder of the day was already going out the window.  
  
"I wasn't sure if I was feeling up to shaking hands with the whole office anyhow," I told him.  
  
"Good, I will proceed there now."  
  
As we drove with the lights going, Francois gave a running commentary on the streets we were using, where they led, and what a pain it was to drive in Paris during rush hour. He'd never been to Tokyo, so I didn't say anything to contradict him.  
  
Soon we arrived on the scene. A bunch of emergency response vehicles were crowded around one of the manhole covers in the middle of a busy street. Ambulances and police cars, cops directing traffic, detectives, you name it. Francois gets out, runs over to a group of other officers, and gets involved in a lengthy discussion with them, with plenty of gestures and so on.  
  
There's a voice in the back of my mind telling me that I should be trying to follow what's going on, but I really can't be bothered at the moment. I lean back against the car and tilt my head back onto the roof. I just relax and drown in the wash of noise that surrounds me. I'm still not sure what's going on, or why I'm here in Paris.  
  
As the days passed before I left, I'd found myself wondering more and more what the heck was going on. Why had someone asked for me? I mean, it wasn't like I was really that famous. Why had the brass on my end sent me over? It just didn't add up. I was used to weird coincidence ruling my life, but it just didn't feel like coincidence to me. But what was I supposed to do about it? I wasn't in good with anyone in any sort of position high up in the police in Tokyo, so there was no way I was gonna find out what their take was. I didn't know anyone at all in Paris, and I wasn't sure what asking around would do for me. I let out a deep sigh, and figured I'd just go with it for now. After all, if someone was planning something, then I figured that the chaos that surrounded me would mess with their plans as well.  
  
Francois came back over, and herded me over towards the sewer.  
  
"I just had to clear you to be on the crime scene with the ranking officer here. Be very careful, the forensic people haven't had a chance to take more than a few photos, but I thought you'd want to see the scene first hand."  
  
We climbed down into the sewer. Partway down, the smell rising out of the refuse channel hit me like a fist. Summer heat and sewers don't mix in a real pleasant way. We reached the bottom, and I looked over at Francois, who was walking briskly down the tunnel towards the lights that were about one hundred metres off. He wasn't clasping an effeminate silk handkerchief to his nose or anything as he went, and my respect for him went up a bit. Those pointy shoes hadn't seemed to hurt his climbing either. Francois walked up to one of the forensics guys standing just outside the lit area.  
  
"Alain, what do we have here?" he asked.  
  
"Ten unidentified corpses, with a possibility of one or two washed away with the flow in the system, we have some people looking for them now. All of them were probably armed, and we've found a few of their guns, mostly 9mm's and a couple .45's. Death is from what look like pistol wounds, probably 9 mm rounds, and almost all the shots are shots to the head or heart. Now, from what we can see so far,"  
  
But Francois had put an hand on his arm and silenced him. He could obviously sense the same thing that I could. Something was wrong.  
  
"Back, everybody back! Get out, get out!" Francois shouted, and pulled Alain down to the ground.  
  
The thunder of automatic fire from down the sewer tunnel boomed around us. Sparks flew from the forensic office lights as they were shredded by bullets, leaving us in darkness lit only by the stroboscopic muzzle flashes from their weapons.  
  
"Shit," I cursed, swearing in Japanese as I made a leap over to the other side of the tunnel where there was another walkway. It took only seconds for the bullets to start striking sparks off the stonework around me, telling me that whoever had the guns, also had some sort of night vision gear. Otherwise, they wouldn't be able to see me quite as easily as they'd just done.  
  
Alain was off on the other side, screaming like a little girl while Francois tried to herd him down along the tunnel towards the exit. A scream from further down the tunnel suggested that someone had been hit.  
  
A short pause in the fire, and then they opened up again, shooting diagonally across the tunnel from both sides, spraying ricochets off both sides of the sewer. Angry red sparks glinted in the air as bullets whistled and screamed all around. It was all I could do not to just drop into the Umisenken and vanish totally. Instead I threw a blinding white ki charge off down the tunnel, bouncing along the floor of the sewer like some sort of flare. My eyes were shut when I threw it, so I was ok as I turned around and started to sprint for the exit. The four guys coming up the tunnel in standard two by two cover formation weren't so lucky though. Sure, I figured their night vision stuff had filters so they weren't blinded by the sudden light, but at the same time they still weren't going to be seeing too well with all of us on the other side of the light.  
  
I grabbed the guy who was lying on the floor with a stomach shot on my way out, and got him out as well as me. Everyone had their weapons out, eyes wild, searching the buildings around us for any sign of danger. I got the guy with me to an ambulance, and crouched behind one of the cars. I had no idea it was this bad when they sent me here.  
  
"Watch for snipers!" one guy screamed from behind another car. Pedestrians scattered off the street in a rush, catching the panicked feeling of the officers, and reacting the only way they could.  
  
Then, there was silence. Sudden peace. Then, after thirty seconds, a dull thump and shocking white light from the open sewer, like lightening, but lasting for seconds. Some sort of thermite charge, my brain told me, but I wasn't really listening. I had no idea it was this bad here in Paris. The police weren't in control down in the sewers, and it didn't look like they were in control up here in the streets either. So who was it that was at the top of the food chain here?  
  
Elsewhere in the city, two young women eating croissants in a café sneezed simultaneously.  
  
Chapter 2 Author's Notes  
  
The second attack Ranma experiences down in the sewers is a group of people trying to cover their tracks and destroy the evidence the first group of people left. Sometimes, 'cleaners' are depicted as using acid to clean up bodies, but that seemed a bit impractical here, so a large, timed thermite charge was used to dispose of things. This was just one more workable solution that suggested itself to me... who knows, it might not be practical either! Strangely, I'm not actually an expert in the disposal of large numbers of inconvenient corpses. 


	3. Landing

Chapter 3 – Landing  
  
I woke up with a start to the sound of two alarm clocks and the smell of burnt plastic. Damn, there goes one alarm clock. I'd started frying alarm clocks from the other side of the room with ki a while ago without having to wake up to do it. I'd eventually trained myself to wake up at exactly the time I wanted to, but what with the jet lag, I wasn't going to trust that for the next little while. Since I didn't have a tomboy here with me to toss a bucket of water on my head, I had to make do with those three alarm clocks.  
  
I didn't want to get up, but it was morning, and the ceiling of my new home for as long as I stay here wasn't too wonderful a view. Plus, my overdressed partner would be here soon to collect me and get me to the office for my first full day of work. I suppose my feelings were mixed about that. I'd never dealt that well with people, and there were going to be a whole bunch around that I supposed I'd have to deal with on some level while I was here. I wasn't sure just how they were going to have me working, but I was hoping they'd let me do my own thing. It was hard to explain Amazon ki signature tracking techniques to... well to most people really, and that was one of the ways I was going to go looking for Noir.  
  
After musing about life for a little bit, and trying to get my body's equilibrium back for a while, I was running late, so I didn't figure I had enough time for any sort of training this morning. Hopefully my partner would have enough time to spar. That might make things more interesting. At least the view was nice from the apartment, and its position on the top floor gave me easy access to the roofs of the city if I needed it. With just about everything downtown six stories high and no more, it'd make a good highway if I needed to get anywhere. The other nice thing was the bathroom in the apartment. It was tiny, not too clean, and not too new, but at least it wasn't communal.  
  
So I got ready, filled a thermos with boiling water, and headed downstairs for breakfast. The whole flask of water thing was a reaction to my still common changes into a girl. It didn't always help, but I could usually get one change out of it. The food in the guest house made up for the sullen landlady. Half a baguette with jam and butter, and a big mug of hot chocolate so thick you could practically stand a spoon up in it. A good start.  
  
Hopefully I could find someplace to buy some cup ramen or something to add that bit extra to all my meals. That, and ask Francois to explain to her that I'll pay more for two breakfasts. That should solve that problem.  
  
I head outside to wait for Francois, and sit on the curb, listening to the city wake up, and watching the people flow past me. It's absorbing really. Each city has its own character, and its own feel. I close my eyes for a few minutes and relax. The only thing that greets me is a series of stroboscopic images: bullets striking sparks off the sewer walls yesterday, feeling them snap and hiss around me as I twirled and rolled down the sewer walkway, blood on the floor and sewer walls, blood on the floor and walls of that hotel back in Tokyo, splashes of blood on the crates in that warehouse on the waterfront, flashes as the JSDF sergeant fired his assault rifle at me in the darkness of the apartment with his family lying dead on the floor behind him... My eyes snap open again. Maybe I'll just watch the city some more.  
  
A few minutes later Francois pulled up and greeted me. "Salut Ranma," he greeted me, somewhat more cheerily than this hour of the morning warranted, I thought. I'm still not much of a morning person, even if I'm used to getting up early. Soon we were careening through the streets towards the police station where Francois and his group were based.  
  
The quarter station they worked in was quite a nice new place, and once we had parked the car and got up there, the offices they had were nice as well. Roomy and bright. Francois took me into the conference room, where all the members of the unit were gathered for their weekly meeting. Some of them were there already, making some small talk, and more filed in as time passed. About fifteen minutes after I figured the meeting had been supposed to start, most of the group was there, and one taller guy in a suit stood up and got things started.  
  
Now, I was hardly a spit and polish sort of guy myself, but most of the guys in the room looked more slovenly than I did, and that was a shock. That, and the late start in the meeting. Francois stood out in his immaculate suit, but I figured that either he was newer than the other guys, or he was more disciplined, being a martial artist and all. Either way, it didn't really matter. The state of my other co-workers told me really bad things about the state of morale in this particular unit. As the French in the meeting whistled way over my head, I checked out people's auras a bit. While none of them were exactly Ryoga, none of them were too happy either.  
  
"And finally, I would like you all to meet Ranma Saotome who's on loan here from the Tokyo police department," said the senior detective. "Since we all can, please use English while Detective Saotome is around, because he can understand it far more than French. Detective Saotome?"  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said with a small bow. "Please don't all introduce yourselves right now. My memory for names is terrible, but I will do my best."  
  
A couple of them smiled at that. At least they didn't seem too uptight, which was good.  
  
"I'm not certain why I've been transferred here to help you, but perhaps if one of the members of Noir is indeed oriental, then I will be able to help some. Thank you."  
  
I sat down again. Public speaking had never been my forte, and doing it in another language was hard as well.  
  
"Alright, we'll skip names for now, but please don't hesitate to ask us any questions you have. It also seems that detective Saotome is being somewhat modest. Yesterday he ensured that Gilbert from forensics got out of that sewer with only a stomach shot, not anything more. Francois, get Saotome kitted out with the basics, and then get him set up so he can access the Interpol files on Noir so he can cover some of the files he hasn't seen already. Later we can take you around to some of the incident sites if you like. At the moment we have to get ready for an inquest our group is involved in tomorrow, so we'll have to talk more later about your duties," said the Inspector.  
  
"Thank you," I said, and quickly left with Francois. It didn't seem they were going to treat me too badly, even if they resented the intrusion on their territory.  
  
We walked down to the armoury, where Francois got me issued a sidearm, a holster, a few clips, some cleaning supplies, and a box of bullets.  
  
"Can I try it out on the range?," I asked. "I'm used to a revolver, not an auto. I've been trained on autos as well, but it's been a while."  
  
"Of course, I should have offered," he said. "I didn't think that you wouldn't be used to the equipment we use, I'm so accustomed to it. I too could use some practise, so perhaps I will join you on the range."  
  
"Sure thing," I said. It was good to see what he could do anyway, if he was going to have my back for any length of time.  
  
So we walked to a couple adjacent booths on the range. Francois immediately started to loose off some rounds, while I checked out the pistol. I recognised it from the pictures. I had done some research on what I'd be using before I'd left, even if I hadn't had one to try out. But it was a Berretta 92G, built in France under license for the police. I'd used a Berretta 92FS on the range before, so it wouldn't be a big adjustment. It was a fairly new gun, if not part of the next generation of weapons that had started coming out around the turn of the century.  
  
So I fired off a clip, nice and slow, not doing anything flashy with it. Truthfully, I didn't have much use for guns other than for making noise, and letting people know I was serious about stuff. For some reason, most people I met up with didn't really respect fists as a weapon until I'd punched them a few times, but most had a pretty inflated vision of what guns could do from movies and TV. Of course, I'd practised with them until I was pretty good, but that was more for a sense of personal satisfaction rather than any desire to master them.  
  
As it turned out, I wasn't as good on the range as Francois. All in all, he was showing off some pretty spectacular marksmanship. At least I could trust him with that. He knew it though. I mean, he was looking at my target, and he could see he was better than me. I had to take a deep breath to keep that old competitive instinct down; to keep from heading back to the range and shooting some more, just trying to get a better shot cluster than he just did. Ah well, it wasn't too important. I'd just take him down when we sparred, that's all.  
  
We spent the rest of the morning setting up the other details that needed to be covered. ID badges, network ID's, tours of the station, and so on. I thought it said something about the unit Francois was in when the first thing they did was give me a gun. I guess trying to hunt down Noir was a dangerous occupation. No big surprise there.  
  
At lunchtime, the cafeteria didn't really quite meet up to my needs. But there was one of the serving ladies there who responded well to a big smile from a polite foreigner, so I got more than maybe I should have. Maybe once I understood the setup here a bit better I'd see if the two guys working there would pile on some extra food for a cute redhead. Heh.  
  
"Perhaps you would like to go through some of the case files now Ranma," Francois said as we walked back towards the offices. "Unfortunately I have a meeting that I have to attend for a while, so I'll have to leave you for a while."  
  
"No problem," I said. "It will take me a while to read through the case files anyway. If they're available in Japanese I'd be much faster, but I can get through them if they're in English."  
  
"The only case files we have here are in French and English, I'm afraid. You could probably find some shared Interpol files in Japanese."  
  
"I looked through most of those before I arrived here, I believe. There are some details I will have to review, but I think I can probably learn more from your case files. They're closer to the scene of the crime than the Interpol files. Did I say that right?"  
  
"I'm not certain Ranma, what did you mean?"  
  
"Mmm... well the Interpol files are usually... filtered? They don't include some of the guesses from the officers first on the scene because other people don't think they're worthwhile."  
  
"Ah, I think I understand," Francois said. "You want to see those first impressions, as well as the guesses and theories that didn't make it into the official reports."  
  
"Yes. Facts are not always that useful to me, because I'm not the smartest person, but the emotion of a crime will often tell me something."  
  
"Ok, we'll get you to a work station to see those files then. You're lucky as well, because our unit tends to make quite a few unofficial annotations on the case files on the servers," said Francois. I thought he looked like he approved of what I'd said, but that could just have been my imagination.  
  
So I got deposited in front of a workstation with my brand new user ID and so forth, and set free in the computer system of the Paris Police Department to look at Noir case files. There were a lot. Who was I kidding? My English wasn't that good, so it was going to take me a week, or maybe more to get through all the files they had on hand. So I filtered them a bit. You only see the real fighter when they're being pushed, so I was only gonna look at the big fights, not the small ones. So anything over four or five bodies was fair game, and that still left me with a couple days reading.  
  
Sorta scary really. I mean, that's a lot of bodies to leave behind you. So I got down to it and started to find out what I could about these two girls who the police figured were the members of Noir. There wasn't much info collected together on them at all, and certainly no pictures.  
  
A couple of hours later, well into the afternoon, I could hear voices raised in the conference room. Francois seemed to be getting pissed about something, and sure enough, about ten minutes later he stormed out, slamming the door, and heading out of the office. Ten minutes later, he was back.  
  
"Ranma, do you wish to spend some time in the gym? I find that I have some energy to work off at the moment."  
  
"Yes, I would enjoy that," I said. I guess he wanted to work off some anger doing martial arts. Feh. Never a good idea, in my opinion. But I was happy to get a bit of a work out anyway. We changed, and wandered out to spar in the gym.  
  
We ended up sparring for two hours or so. For the first while I was mostly absorbing and containing while he worked off his aggression. When he got a bit winded later on I moved into some more offensive forms and put his ass on the mats a few times. He surprised me a few times, but considering I was sticking to straight kenpo pretty much the whole time and I still knew I'd taken him more times than he had me I wasn't too worried about him on that front. If I'd gone all out using my full array of techniques, he wouldn't have stood a chance.  
  
He didn't seem bothered that I was better though, which was a bit strange. I would have expected a bit more competitiveness from him. But there were some odd forms he'd used when I'd pushed him a bit near the end; little things he didn't mean to let slip out. All of the strikes missed me though, but it seemed to be on purpose. Maybe he knew some chi attacks he was holding back, but I'd find out about them eventually. Now that was an interesting prospect, if I was right.  
  
We showered and changed, including a rather unexpected change of a different sort for me into a redhead, but I covered that one up before anyone noticed it for the cost of only a 20 franc bill. The old Saotome desperation strike number two had its uses after all. While people were looking at the money they totally failed to see me sprint full out to get under the hot shower on the other side of the locker bank.  
  
Francois didn't ever really say what the disagreement was about that had gotten him so angry in the first place, and I didn't really want to ask. They did give me the next day off work though. The rest of the unit would be involved in the inquest, and Francois figured I could do with some time to look around the city and do a bit of tourist type stuff anyway. So I thanked them, and left.  
  
And then back to my apartment. Some of the unit had been going out after work for some wine or beer or something, but I didn't drink much, and I didn't really feel like it. I'm certain they just woulda been trying to get me drunk anyway, and I certainly didn't feel like that at all. I got a bit of dinner and some groceries, and sent postcards off to Akane, and mom. I'd give a call once I'd figured out the time zones and got a phone hooked up in the apartment, but I figured it was still nice to get mail.  
  
I worked out a bit more, then cleaned up, and lay back on the bed to think. Some things had become obvious to me just looking at a few of the files. First, this recent attack was the only large scale action in the last six months with only a few other corpses tentatively attributed to Noir during that period.  
  
Second, the previous wave of large scale battles with some pretty heavy body counts and nobody really trying to clean them up had reached a peak just before this six month period had started. Third, the hits that actually happened seemed mostly to be on other underworld figures of some note, not innocent people. Fourth, most of the large scale fights looked like self defence to me, not hits. I mean things were still messy, but I knew what could happen when you were going all out to defend yourself. Of course, I'd tended to leave craters scattered about Nerima, not corpses, but the principle was sorta the same.  
  
So what had been going on six months ago, and why had it started up again? Just who was trying to kill these two girls? And why wasn't this self defence angle in any of the official reports I'd read? I mean, I guess I could understand that the police here were pretty bitter about Noir, since they'd lost a few people during their investigation of Noir, but it seemed a bit strange that this info would be totally missing from the official files. I mean, I'd figured all this stuff out pretty easy, and I knew I wasn't really that smart or anything.  
  
The evening sun shining through my windows painted the ceiling red as it set. I had so many questions about this whole thing, and no answers at all. Of course the case was a frustrating sorta manhunt, but it looked like my initial feelings about what was going on were right. There was something happening at a higher level in the Police department here. Some sorta cover up or something. And that still didn't explain just why it was that I was here. Frustration with the whole situation stopped me getting off to sleep for a while, but eventually I drifted off, thinking of one of Kasumi's better dinners.  
  
The next morning I woke up really early, without the alarms, which was great. The smell of burning plastic wasn't really that nice early in a day. I got out of bed, dressed, and wandered out of the building into a hot, sullen morning. I'd get my double share of breakfast later on. At the moment, I'd seen some clear space in a park near here, so I wanted to run through a few sets of Tai Chi. It had been a while since I'd done it, but I figured the relaxation and concentration might help me get back to being more centred. Less worried about things that I can't control yet. I hung my towel on a tree and moved into the first set as the sun just peeked above the horizon.  
  
Chapter 3 Author's Notes  
  
You'll notice that Ranma's speech is very formal when he's talking. That's because he's speaking English at the moment, a language he doesn't know well enough to use contractions or idiosyncratic forms, or whatever. When he's speaking Japanese, it'll be rougher and back closer to his usual. It figured I could either do what I did or make his English the painfully bad sort of 'you want go now?' type, but I didn't want to have to keep that writing style up the entire time he's speaking English so...  
  
The 'good old Saotome desperation strike #2' refers to the 'Feline Fu' Ranma uses in Vol. 13 of the English manga after Ryoga has been given the mark of the battling god by a wandering hermit (the mark is a big goofy smiley face on his stomach). The attack involves throwing some money down on the ground and then attacking your opponent while they're distracted by it. Needless to say, the technique attracts Mr. Saotome and Mr. Tendo, but not Ryoga.  
  
Sorry these first chapters aren't that fast moving, but I need to set the scene a bit for what's to come.  
  
Thanks to everyone who's reviewing. Feel free to mail if you have any specific questions, or would like to pre-read etc. 


	4. The Other Side

** Chapter 4 - The Other Side (Kirika's POV) **  
  
My eyes opened and I was awake again. Nobody had killed me while I slept. Not that they  
would find that easy, as I am an unnaturally light sleeper, but there is always a chance.   
Especially after Mirelle was attacked yesterday. My thoughts should be precise, but they   
spiral out of my control for a moment.  
  
It's been months since I've killed, so please, please, don't make me do it again. Don't come  
and hunt for me, because I'll kill you. I'll kill you all. And my days and nights are already   
filled with memories of death. Don't make me add to them. How can I redeem myself if   
you force me to kill just to stay alive to get the chance to redeem myself? Just stop it, stop it   
all.  
  
My breathing starts to quicken. Then the cold steel at my centre wells up and stops all that.   
I see my battles over and over again so I can learn from them and move that one step closer   
to perfecting my skills. I stay alive because I am Noir. I must redeem because I am Noir.  
I sigh. But is anything really that simple anymore? It's hard to find a balance between the   
killer I am, and what I want to become. I have to try and loosen so much of the control I   
have as Noir to allow myself to become anything else, but if I loosen that control the   
realities of my situation come crashing in.  
  
By my calculations I have probably turned twenty recently, although of course I'm not  
certain of my age or birthday, and all the skills I have revolve around killing other people.   
I'm unavoidably reminded of that old American film Mirelle rented recently called Grosse   
Pointe Blank. The main character, a hitman, realises that he will have nothing in common   
with anyone else from his high school class. How does he plan to introduce himself?  
  
"My name's Martin Blank, and I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork."  
  
In the film I believe it's intended to be an element of comedy, but I myself know that it is in   
fact quite simple to kill someone with a fork by inserting it between two upper vertebrae and  
then pivoting it right and left while applying rotational torque to the instrument. How   
absurd is it that I have actually used this knowledge? Can I move on from that sort of past,   
and make something of myself when I don't even know what I want to become? Can I   
possibly be anything but a killer, no matter how hard I wish for it? I have so many   
unanswered and unanswerable questions. I've thought about them for such a long time   
now, trying to see a way through it, but no matter which way I turn, I run up against walls   
that I can not break down.  
  
As is usual for me, I quietly dress, gather up a book, and prepare to make my way out for my   
morning walk, only to find my way barred by my dear friend Mirelle.  
  
In many ways, she is everything that I am not. She is tall, and very beautiful, with a maturity   
which goes far beyond her years. She is slightly older than me, not significantly so, but she   
looks like a grown woman. Being on her own for so long has taught her ways of dealing   
with people, both friendly to her and those hostile to her, with charisma and in ways that   
induce respect. She is also a shrewd business woman. I suspect that someday, she will make   
a wonderful mother for some darling children. I have none of these attributes or abilities,   
other than perhaps painfully acquired maturity.  
  
"Ki. Ri. Ka," she says, drawing my name out in the way she does when she's unhappy with   
me. "Did I not say last night that I wanted to talk with you?" She exhales with a little sigh.   
  
"You're not even carrying, are you. The day after I was attacked by ten Les Soldats killers,   
you're still going outside alone and without a gun?"  
  
"But Mirelle, I can always run, can't I?"  
  
"You know it isn't that simple Kirika," she tells me. "Anyway, it's been months since you've   
fired a gun at all. I just thought we could go to a practice range in the sewers and make sure   
you still have the edge you might need to survive out there. And don't tell me that you   
haven't healed up yet. I've seen the wounds. You're as good as new now."  
  
"If you want to," I say. "Please don't worry about me though."  
  
"Come on. There's no getting out of it this time, ok? I'm not asking you to come out with   
me on a job, ok? I just want to get you out of the books you're always reading, and make   
sure you can defend yourself."  
  
So we walk out into the streets of Paris. The sun is just coming up now as we stop for a   
couple croissants. I don't really feel like eating, but I know it's pointless to protest. Mirelle   
has been very clear recently that she thinks I'm eating less than I should. I suppose it was   
true that my weight was dropping, and my levels of energy had been lower than I was used   
to.  
  
We wander off the beaten path, and down into the network of underground passages that   
crisscross Paris. Here we have what amounts to a regular shooting gallery in one of the   
passages that isn't used heavily anymore.  
  
"For you Kirika, a present," says Mirelle, as she hands me over an oilskin wrapped bundle   
she'd been carrying with her. To me it feels like one compact pistol with a full magazine,   
two full extra magazines, a holster, and some cleaning supplies. While Mirelle unpacks a   
couple boxes of 9mm ammo, I unwrap the package.  
  
"Thank you," I say with a bit of a sigh. She knows I'm not carrying my gun right now, so   
she's bought me a new one.  
  
"It's a Berretta 9000S type F," she says unnecessarily, since I've already identified it from   
pictures I studied at some point in time. "It's a newer version of the gun you used to use, so   
I thought it might be nice for you to update, instead of changing manufacturers or   
anything."  
  
"Thank you," I say again, but mean it this time. Even if I don't want a gun, it's nice that I   
have such a considerate friend. I stand there, looking at the gun, lying in my hands in its   
wrapping. Mirelle walks down to the end wall of the tunnel and marks two new targets for   
us on the wall.  
  
"I don't really want to pick it up," I call after her down the tunnel. It feels a bit like some   
sort of forbidden fruit that I don't want to taste.  
  
"Come on!" she says. "Let's get on with it. You need to practice, you know." She gets back   
to where are supplies are and fires a magazine at the target she's made for herself. She might   
have improved a bit during the last six months actually. She's shooting with a bit more   
confidence now that she did sometimes before. I suppose she has been doing work recently   
that I haven't been involved in.  
  
I strap the holster on under my jacket so the gun rides in the small of my back, and then pick   
the gun up and pull back the slide to check there's a round in the chamber already. I pocket   
the full magazines. It's a bit like picking up an old security blanket again, and for all I know,   
a gun might have been just that when I was small. I had probably been given them to touch   
from almost the day I was born.  
  
I was wrong, it isn't a forbidden fruit. It's like an addiction I'd been denying myself for these   
last six months. Now I feel safe again. Now I feel whole. The thought terrifies me.  
  
I fire a magazine at the target as fast as I can pull the trigger. I start to fire from the second   
magazine before the empty one has even hit the floor. The third follows the first two.   
Thirty seven rounds down the range.  
  
"Check my target," I tell Mirelle, already starting to fill the magazines from the boxes of   
bullets she brought with us. I don't need to check the target to know that my shooting was   
beyond reproach, but Mirelle needs to see it. As she walks off down the tunnel, my hands   
start to shake even as I combat load the gun and then slide an extra round back into the   
magazine.  
  
When she gets back, the gun is already in its holster, and I'm wiping my hands off.  
  
"You shot better than I did, even after all these months, firing faster than I did with a   
compact pistol," she says with a bit of shock and awe in her voice. "You're perfect Kirika."  
  
"Mirelle... I'm a perfect killer. I'd been trying to forget for all these months," I say with tears   
running down my cheeks. "But I can't... I just can't forget how to kill." She gathers me into   
her arms as I cry. I never sob, or make noise. I just cry.  
  
"Shhh..." she murmurs, stroking my hair. "Maybe practice isn't what you need right now."   
  
Sometimes even though she's just 24, she feels a bit like a mother.  
  
"I can't remember any of the rest of my life, Mirelle," I say. "Nothing but death, and how to   
cause it."  
  
She packs up the rest of the equipment we brought with us and puts her gun back in her   
handbag.  
  
"Maybe we should go home and talk about this, you know?" she says. "I didn't really know   
you felt like that about it."  
  
Soon we're walking on the streets of Paris again. Despite my resistance to using one again,   
the gun and magazines are a comforting weight for me. The world is back to being black   
and white. There's Mirelle and I: the black. And street after street of dead people. They   
don't know it yet, but that's just because I haven't pulled the trigger.  
  
Hour later, we're back sitting in our apartment, comfortable in a couple overstuffed chairs   
Mirelle bought a few months back. I love sitting in the one I'm in now, where I can see out   
the window. Other than chores, I spend a lot of my time sitting here now. Mirelle   
commented once that even though I spoke plenty of languages, I obviously wasn't that well   
read. So I set out to change that, making my way through all sorts of books from the library.   
I found that I truly enjoyed some of them, so I wasn't doing it simply because I felt that I   
should.  
  
"Here's some tea, Kirika," Mirelle said, as she handed me a cup. It wasn't evening yet, when   
we usually had tea together, but I guess she thought maybe I needed it.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me you were feeling that like," she asked me. "I knew you hadn't   
touched a gun in a long time, but I really wasn't sure why it was."  
  
"I didn't know what to say," I told her, looking down into my tea cup. "You know that I   
have trouble talking about things."  
  
"It's ok, you don't need to be a killer for me, or anything like that," she said. "So why don't   
you go out and go to school, or take some night courses or something like that?"  
  
"I couldn't really enroll. I don't have the right types of identification," I said.  
  
"Bullshit. That isn't the reason at all," she said. "You know that I could have ten separate   
identities set up for you and go to a different school with each one without anyone   
suspecting a thing. What is it really?"  
  
"I can't be seen with people," I said. "I know that Les Soldats will probably still be trying to   
kill us. How can I be seen with anyone and make friends with them? Each and every one of   
them would become another target for Les Soldats the moment I spoke with them. Just   
because I don't want to kill someone doesn't mean that they're safe from me."  
  
"But I talk to people all the time," said Mirelle.  
  
"Yes, but most of your friends are employed in less than regular professions anyway, Mirelle.   
And what about Monsieur Vanel outside Paris who was killed with his family when you'd   
contacted him for information?" I asked her.  
  
"But he was looking for information. He was working against Les Soldats, he knew the   
risks," she said.  
  
"Alright," I said, "what about your uncle? What about the painter?"  
  
"Damn it Kirika," she said, a bit bitterly. "Why did you bring my uncle up? "  
  
"Sorry," I said quietly.  
  
"I suppose I can see your point though," she said, a bit shaken. "I'd never thought of it   
quite like that. So that's why you've been sitting around in here, reading and practising   
throwing those damn knives all the time. I guess that your reasoning precludes you finding a   
guy and getting laid then," Mirelle said, teasing a bit.  
  
"Mirelle!" I said, blushing horribly. Sometimes I have a bit of trouble with her teasing me   
about things like that. Is it my fault that I've never kissed a boy before?  
  
"Sorry," she said with a grin. "I think it would do you the world of good though. Give you a   
totally different perspective on life."  
  
"But how can you suggest I betray my upperclassman?" I ask her. "Mr. Matsui back in   
Japan was so strong, and so handsome!" I gaze up towards the ceiling with wide eyes. I do   
my best to get that dopey loving expression you see in movies sometimes.  
  
"What?" Mirelle demanded, with staring eyes. I think she almost fell off her chair. Then she   
saw the smile her surprise had provoked. "I keep forgetting that you've got a sense of   
humour buried under there somewhere."  
  
Then we move on to talking about more comfortable things, like Mirelle's latest job, and   
some new guns that some manufacturers were bringing out in the near future. Not only did   
she forget about the fact that I'm capable of humour, but also that I'm capable of redirecting   
conversations when it suits me. I prefer to think things through on my own.  
  
So we chat, have dinner, and then talk some more. I read while Mirelle does some research   
online, and then off to bed.  
  
The next morning I wake up again. I'm still not dead, and I still want to take that early   
morning walk. I dress, gather my things together, and make it outside while Mirelle is still   
asleep. I leave a note for her, telling her not to worry. I've taken my gun as well as a book.  
  
I walk toward the park that's a few blocks from the apartment intending to read there for a   
while before the city gets really busy. It's a humid day, and later it will probably get quite   
hot. When I get to the park, I find that there's an oriental man there before me, who's just   
started a set of Tai Chi. As I stand watching him, the sun peeks up over the horizon and   
paints the sky above.  
  
**Chapter 4 Author's Notes**  
  
- Yes, she does actually kill someone with a fork in the series in episode 4  
  
- I'm suggesting here that Kirika has probably done at least some Tai Chi in the past. She's   
certainly good at martial arts, and even though her style is pretty focussed on killing people,   
it certainly isn't that linear. She relies quite a bit on evasion, leg sweeps, etc. so it seems   
reasonable to me that she's done some 'softer' styles as well. Ok, I'm probably over   
analysing here, but it makes sense to me, and it's important for the plot, damn it. grin  
  
- Ok, sorry for the detail on the guns. I just thought I should I should at least make an   
attempt to be factually correct. Incidently, in the series (and this fic) Mirelle uses the same   
sort of gun that Mr. Bond does at the moment, a Walther P99.  
  
- It doesn't come into the story quite yet, but the two of them have moved into a new   
apartment from the one they lived in during the series. It's a bit larger, with two bedrooms   
instead of one open room. 


	5. The First Morning

** Chapter 5 - The First Morning (Ranma's POV)**  
  
The sun was up when I finished my first set of Tai Chi. I'd been really concentrating on the forms as I went, trying to do the best job that I could. It had been a while since I'd done any Tai Chi, and the best way to acquire some bad habits would be to rush through the first time I did it and make mistakes. Still, it was surprisingly relaxing. I'd forgotten how good it felt.  
  
I wandered over to my towel and wiped my face off. It was going to be hot today. The temperature wasn't that bad, but the humidity... ugh. And that gave me a little shudder, cause where there's heat, there's lots of people with cold water, and where there's cold water, there's me turning into a chick again.  
  
It was about then that I realized that I was being watched. I thought back and figured out that she'd been standing there for most of the set, but I'd been concentrating, and there didn't seem much reason to pay much attention to her.  
  
I turned around and looked at her. She was a real skinny kid with some good muscle tone, and about sixteen or seventeen. Sorta mousey lookin with short, messy black hair. Probably Japanese from her facial features, but who knew for sure? No battle aura though, which was possibly a good thing, but maybe she was just hiding it well. Carrying a hefty paperback as well, which could be a weapon I guess.  
  
She walked over to me a bit hesitant, but looking friendly enough. I figured giving a little smile wouldn't hurt, even if I wasn't totally sure she wasn't going to try and kill me, so I gave her one. Was it weird to wonder if she was after my head? Maybe, but then again, look at my life.  
  
"Bonjour monsieur, vous etes un etudiant de Tai Chi?" she asked me.  
  
"Ummm... yeah, Tai Chi," I mumbled, "Je ne parle pas Francais." I'd memorized that one before I came over as well.  
  
"Oh, sorry," she said, switching to English, "do you speak English then?"  
  
"Yes, I can speak it a little, but I prefer Japanese," I said. Ok, I was hoping real hard she spoke it. It'd been ages since I'd been able to be comfortable talking with someone else. Ok, maybe it'd really only been a few days, but it was rough to not really know what was going on around you.  
  
"Actually, so do I," she said, confirming my suspicions about where she was from by switching again into Japanese.  
  
"Hey yeah?" I said, happily. "You don't know how good it is to hear that. I mean, I'm not too bad at English and all, but I'm totally lost in French. My name's Ranma," I told her, following the custom here of providing my given name. Then I froze, because if she was hunting me, then I'd just given her the info she needed to jump in to attack.  
  
"My name is Kirika," she said, "it's a pleasure to meet you. I was just asking you if studied Tai Chi. You're very good."  
  
"It's been a while since I've done it," I said, "and it's not really my specialty, but I've trained in it a bit."  
  
"I was wondering if I could go through a set or two as well," she asked. "It has been a while since I've practised as well, but if you wouldn't mind..." she trailed off a bit, looking a bit embarrassed for asking.  
  
"Sure, no problem at all," I said. "I was just about to start another set anyway."  
  
"Thank you," she said, and put her book down on the ground.  
  
I'd thought it was a bit strange she wasn't taking her windbreaker off when she came back over, but then I realised that it was because she was wearing a concealed holster. My heart did some sorta bellyflop straight into my guts.  
  
This wasn't normal for France, was it? For a girl that age to be carrying? As she got closer, I was getting jumpier than a mongoose watching a snake, but I read something there in her eyes. I mean, I was watching them so I'd see it before she made her move, but they looked so... tired, sorta. Maybe the same way mine did when I looked in the mirror just before I came here.  
  
Somehow my stomach just unclenched a whole lot, and instead of figuring out exactly which tactic I was going to use to tie up her gun arm while I got in close, I just gave her a smile and settled into the first stance. Dunno why really, but even Nabiki says you can tell a lot from someone's eyes, so maybe I'm not that far off base.  
  
She showed real impressive control through the whole set. All her motions were hard and clinical, sorta like a scalpel. On the other hand, the circular motions seemed to come pretty naturally. That gave me a pretty good idea of which other styles she'd trained in that weren't Tai Chi.  
  
After a couple more sets we sat down in the shade. Not too close to each other, but close enough to talk over the rising noise of the city. It was strangely comfortable.  
  
"I'd forgotten how much work that actually is," she said. "The last time I did Tai Chi was... well a couple years ago when I was seventeen. I guess I haven't been active enough recently either."  
  
"You were really good though," I said. "I mean, it isn't what you've really trained in, but it still suits you." She looked at me with a bit of surprise.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, I've trained in a bunch of other stuff as well, and it just looks like you have too. It's hard to do anything more than concentrate on getting the forms mechanically right when you first get into it, but near the end of the second set, I could see you feeling it more and relaxing into it."  
  
"I'm not sure really what you're saying," she said, "but I did start to feel a bit more relaxed closer to the end."  
  
"Yeah. This sort of soft, non-linear thing probably fits your personality, even if it isn't what you've been trained in," I said.  
  
"I.... I really hope that you're right," she said, really softly. I wasn't really prepared for her reaction. I mean, had I said something wrong?  
  
"Ummm... you don't mind that I said that, do you?" I asked.  
  
"No, not at all," she said with a little smile. "I guess I'm a bit surprised, that's all."  
  
"Look, if you want to drop by, I'll be here just about every morning running through a few sets or something," I said. "I just got here, so I don't really have a routine down, but I do prefer to train for a while every morning." I don't know, martial arts is always more fun for me with a partner. Maybe she'd be up for some sparring some other time.  
  
"I couldn't impose on you like that," she said.  
  
"Ah, no worries. I'll be here anyway, and training is always more fun when there's other people around."  
  
"Really? I think I would enjoy training as well," she said.  
  
"Good." I said, and lay back on the grass for a few seconds. "Mmm, looks like it's going to be a hot day today."  
  
"Yes," she agreed. "You mentioned that you only arrived in Paris recently?"  
  
"Yeah, just two days ago actually, and I've been on the go pretty much since I got here."  
  
"So you haven't had time to explore yet?"  
  
"Nope," I said, squinting up at her.  
  
"I have lived here for more than a year, and I haven't had the chance to look around either," she said.  
  
"You got anything to do today?" I asked.  
  
"No," she said, looking down at her shoes now. They were pink, I noted. Hopefully she wasn't a really girly type or anything.  
  
"You want to sight see a bit then?" I asked.  
  
"That might be interesting," she said, still looking down.  
  
"Ok, ummm... well maybe I should go home and clean up a bit. You want to meet back here in an hour or something?"  
  
"Yes, that would be fine," she said, still not looking at me. "I will be back in one hour from now." She got up, gathered up her book, and walked away without ever really giving me eye contact again.  
  
"Ok... see you then..." I said. That was a bit weird. Maybe I'd freaked her out or something, and she wasn't going to show up again.  
  
"Wait a second," I muttered to myself. I just practically asked a girl I'd just met out on something like... well, maybe a date.  
  
And she was carrying a gun.  
  
Gods, I was a total fool. A complete and total idiot. What was I thinking about her being girly, anyway? She was a trained martial artist, and she was carrying a gun. Girly, my steely buttocks. It was just like I'd gone with some sort of weird gut instinct instead of my brain. I hauled myself to my feet anyway, and got ready to head off home. Probably she wasn't going to show up anyway.  
  
But now there was something hanging at the edge of my consciousness. Something I should have thought of. Ah well, I'd remember it later.  
  
A quick run, shower, change, and two breakfasts was enough to get me ready. So I strolled back to the park, arriving a bit early, and sat down to wait.  
  
To my surprise, the girl showed up again, just on the hour mark. She was dressed in a nice sun dress with a big straw hat, and carrying some sorta backpack thing. The sun shone from behind her for an instant, and suddenly it was like my brain got back into gear with a bang, and I realised what had been hanging on the edge of my thoughts.  
  
**Chapter 5 Author's Notes **  
  
- ok, it might seem strange that she just walked over and asked to join in, but in some places parks are just full in the mornings of people who just show up to run through a few sets of Tai Chi, no questions asked, so it isn't all that weird.  
  
- Ranma's comment at the end about 'my steely buttocks' is actually from the Viz manga translation, Vol. 13. Although it's Ryoga that says it, I can picture Ranma picking up the phrase or something.  
  
- You might have noted the gratuity of Kirika saying that the last time she did Tai Chi was a couple years ago when she was seventeen. This is just so Ranma knows she's older than he initially assessed her to be.  
  
- I know folks… Ranma and Noir are both action anime, so where's the action, right? Just have a bit of patience… I need to set things up a bit before the shooting starts. 


	6. A Bit of a Surprise

** Chapter 6 - A Bit of a Surprise (Kirika's POV) **  
  
I jogged a bit on the way home. I'd have to hurry a bit to get back to the park in one hour, and I thought that hurrying on the way home would be better than hurrying back after my shower.  
  
Mirelle was barely up when I got back and rushed into the shower with an apology to her. She really wasn't a morning person at all, and until she'd had some coffee it often seemed like even though her eyes were open, she wasn't really all there.  
  
I couldn't believe myself really. After saying just the other day that I couldn't be seen around other people, I walked up to a guy I'd never met before and talked to him.  
  
The cold shower water beat down on my head, making be shiver a bit. I mean, he wasn't that much older than me I didn't think, probably in his mid twenties. And had he actually, sort of, almost, asked me out on a date?  
  
No, that couldn't have been it at all. It was just nice for him to meet someone who he could talk with easily. It was easy to talk with him too. I hadn't really intended to talk at all, but somehow...  
  
I closed my eyes as I shampooed my hair, and I could picture his tired blue grey eyes looking at me in the park. My eyes snapped open and I got an eye-full of shampoo.  
  
"Ooh... nuts," I muttered, washing out my eye. I couldn't be seen with the person a second time. He would become a target. I would spend the day with Mirelle, and that was that.  
  
He looked so... confident running through those forms though. I'd never seen any of my instructors do a full set so perfectly. Maybe he could take care of himself. He was Japanese as well, which was nice. I could only assume that I was a native Japanese speaker, because no matter how many languages I knew it always did seem easier to express myself in.  
  
What was I thinking? I would return to the park, but over the roofs. I would watch for the watchers who I knew would be there. I would shadow them. Trail them back to their controller. Trail the controller back to his, and so on until I found the inner circle of Les Soldats and then kill them one by one.  
  
I looked at myself in the mirror as I got out of the shower. Maybe I did need to eat a bit more. I'd be exercising more anyway now. Maybe he would spar with me in other styles? He did say that he was trained in other martial arts as well, didn't he?  
  
It was going to be hot today, so I put on a sun dress and grabbed a big straw hat like the one I'd worn when Mirelle and I were in the Carribean a while ago. My gun went in the backpack in the drawstring pocket I could draw it fastest from. I'd have to check it before we went into anywhere with a metal detector.  
  
The throwing knives on my leg would make a good back up, and they were ceramic, so I wouldn't need to take them off. The sandals looked a bit impractical, but I could run for at least five miles in them, the rubber soles were quiet, and they would grip roof tiles well.  
  
I had checked.  
  
I hurried out from my room, grabbed a couple croissants and some water, and ran out. It was getting a bit late.  
  
"Bye Mirelle, I'll be out for the day," I said as I shut the door behind me, taking the steps two at a time on the way down. I think she was too surprised, or she might have asked what I was doing.  
  
I kept glancing down at my watch as I walked, making sure I'd be on time. I checked the gun surreptitiously a second time, making sure there was a round in the chamber.  
  
What was I doing out here? I should have asked Mirelle to follow, just in case he was one of Les Soldats. I wouldn't drink or eat anything that I couldn't watch the entire time it was being prepared, to make sure I wasn't being drugged. I wouldn't sit in the open, and I would walk slightly behind him and to his right, so he couldn't draw right handed and shoot in the same motion.  
  
Then I was in the park, and I saw him waiting on a bench. He looked really surprised to see me. I wasn't sure why. I walked up to him, not really looking straight at him because I could feel him staring at me.  
  
"Sorry you had to wait for me," I said to him, a bit breathless. Strange, I hadn't run here, had I?  
  
"No, I... I was early," he said, looking around at anything but me as I looked up. I felt a bit of wonder in me, and had to smile. What was he nervous for? He looked like he was about to run away. Then he looked up at me and met my eyes. I think he saw my smile, because as I looked at him, his tension seemed to drain away. My smile was making him relax? Then he threw me this cocky grin I hadn't seen before, and... I could feel myself flushing, but I wasn't looking away for some reason.  
  
I found myself walking on his right, just slightly behind the centerline of his body. I'm fairly sure we'd decided to go to the Louvre. Goodness. I flushed again. What had he said to me?  
  
He didn't look like he was armed though. His dark vest didn't leave any room for concealed weapons underneath it. The short sleeved shirt was open and moved too much to hide a holster behind him or to the side. The cargo pants were loose, but the fabric didn't drape like there was much in the pockets. The room was probably to allow full leg extension in a high kick rather than anything else. The court shoes would give good support and grip. So perhaps he was ready to fight after all. I would move out of his immediate reach the instant I felt threatened.  
  
He certainly had a lot of scars though, just like me. I could see them on his arms, and in his eyes as well. We walked for a while in silence, but it was ok. I could tell he was still relaxed and I was too.  
  
Now I was leaning on a railing looking out on the tour boats moving slowly up and down the Seine. It was night. Rippling reflections from the city turned the waters into a fluid mosaic of light and dark.  
  
I hope Mirelle wasn't worried about me. I'd spent the whole day with Ranma, walking all over the city and talking. Looking at the Mona Lisa in the Louvre, and both thinking it was smaller than we thought it would be. Looking at the two thousand year old weapons there and figuring out how they'd been used. Eating lunch in a café on the roof of a department store looking out over the Seine. Eating dinner in a little charcuterie on a side street. I could tell he was as comfortable with me as I was with him. I think... I think he likes me. I mean, not Like, of course. Just... comfortable.  
  
But he kept avoiding telling me about what he was doing in Paris. Just like I would if he'd asked me what I was doing here. But he hadn't even asked me. So he was a killer or a thief. If he was a killer, I would probably have to kill him. If he was a thief... I would ask Mirelle. Maybe we would have to kill him anyway. Best to be safe. But I would ask him one more time. Just...  
  
"Ranma?" I say, drawing his attention to me. I look away, avoiding those eyes of his.  
  
"Yeah?" he says.  
  
"So what are you doing in Paris? You still haven't explained."  
  
I can see tension return to his body. Not like he was going to attack me, like he just didn't want to talk about it. We stood there a minute or more. He looked out over the water and sighed.  
  
"Ok," he said. "I'll tell you. I was hoping you wouldn't ask again so soon though."  
  
"I know," I told him. "That's why I had to ask." He smiled at that.  
  
"I'm a policeman," he said, and suddenly my heart wasn't working right. I hadn't even considered that. Why wouldn't he want to tell me about that? Was he undercover?  
  
"I was sent here by the Tokyo police, because a department of the Paris police had requested some help. I was sent here to find a couple of female assassins who go by the name of Noir and either bring them in, or kill them if I had to."  
  
My brain wasn't working either. I had to move now. He was dead, and he just didn't know it yet. Kill him before he knew who I was. One knife thrust would punch through the back of his skull at the very base. There was no tour boat. He would be in the water before he was dead. I would be gone in five seconds.  
  
"From some of the evidence the police had collected, they believed that one of the two women was Oriental, specifically Japanese. Both quite young. So I arrived just a couple days ago and got down to work."  
  
He knew after all. He must know I'm Noir. I don't know what to do.  
  
"But as I looked through more and more of the case files, I sorta figured that maybe Noir was being attacked most of the time, not doing the attacking. Then I thought back. See, my life has been pretty crazy," he said with a sigh, still looking out over the water. I stared at him. He must have known who I was the whole day I just spent with him.  
  
"I had to kill for the first time when I was sixteen," he continued. "Well, not really kill as it turned out, but anyway. I've had to kill again since then as well. Lots of times. I didn't want to. Each time at the start I'd fight like hell to find some other way; I only did it when I was put in a situation where I didn't have a choice. But I just ended up in situations where I didn't have choice again and again. Then after a while, it got easier sometimes just to do it instead of avoiding it. I hated that I felt that way when I realised it, but there was no way out for me. That was just the way life had worked out. About two years ago things got worse because a couple people important to me realised what had happened to me without them knowing it until it was too late. Since then, things have just gotten even more crazy."  
  
I was still staring at him. He sounded so tired.  
  
"It was like there were these walls around me and I couldn't get out of the life I was stuck in," he said. "So I just sorta thought, you know, what about those girls? Noir I mean. I mean, what if they were trapped in the same way? What if they didn't want to be where they were? Maybe they didn't have any choices either."  
  
He turned and looked me straight in the eye. He understood me. That's what he'd just told me, and looking in his eyes, I knew he was right.  
  
"So now I'm not sure what to do," he said. "I figure I'll just go with what my gut is telling me. I don't think Noir in jail or dead is going to help anyone at all, so I won't do anything like that. I mean, I'm not saying I should be helping them or anything. I don't know."  
  
He stuttered to a halt, sighed, and turned and leaned back on the railing, looking up at the sky. His exposed throat was an easy target, but I wasn't doing anything about it. There was a tense silence. I didn't know what to do, and I suppose he didn't either.  
  
"You can't see that many stars in the city," he finally said, after clearing his throat a bit. "It's one of the things I miss most about camping out with my old man."  
  
"Mmmm..." I murmured, and looked away from him. I hadn't even realised I'd been looking at him. I felt less tense though, he wasn't pushing things into any sort of confrontation.  
  
Both of us stood there, leaning against that railing for a while. I'm not really sure how long. Maybe his thoughts were as confused as mine. Eventually we wandered back through the city streets to the park where we'd met just that morning. That seemed very strange for some reason.  
  
"Ummm... I'll be back here training tomorrow morning," he said, looking over at me in the dark. "The offer's still open, if you're into it."  
  
"I... maybe," I said. I had no idea if I would be there. My head was still swimming with conflicting needs. Kill him. Trust him.  
  
"Ok," he nodded, understanding me, I think. "See ya around then."  
  
I turned away and walked out of the park. I knew he wouldn't try and follow me.  
  
Mirelle was worried when I got back to the apartment. I had been out over twelve hours, after all.  
  
"Where have you been all this time," she asked, after she'd complained at me a bit.  
  
"I was just doing some sight seeing," I said.  
  
"Sight seeing? But you've lived here with me for more than a year."  
  
"I know," I said, "but I've never had a chance to see much of the city, other than the sewers. The rest of the time we've been busy doing something, and we can't just slow down and admire what's around us."  
  
"True enough," she said. "Where did you go?"  
  
We talked for a while, drinking a bit of tea. Of course she knew more about the history of where I'd been than I did. Soon though I was yawning, and I got ready for bed.  
  
Lying curled up in bed with my eyes closed, my worries were replaced by a sort of comfortable warmth in my stomach as I drifted off to sleep. I hoped that I'd get a good rest.  
  
I had to get up early, after all.  
  
**Chapter 6 Author's Notes**  
  
- Alright, Kirika has a bunch of throwing knives in a leg sheath. I have no idea how practical this is, or if it is possible to walk around for a day armed to the teeth with long sharp ceramic knives attached to your leg under a sun dress. Sadly, I have no personal experience being a psycho death ninja. But this is anime, so it's possible, ok?  
  
- As for the knives being ceramic, this is totally possible, as the kitchen knives in a local kitchen supply store will attest. Glock makes a ceramic gun after all, so a knife isn't real tricky.  
  
- This chapter was a bit tricky to write, and I'm still not sure if I really managed to pull it off. See, it's from Kirika's POV, and it's really intended to show her struggling between being the absurdly deadly killer she's been trained to be and who she had been, and a girl out on her first date-ish sort of thing. Since I haven't ever been either, it's just guesswork on my part.  
  
- the 'fluid mosaic of light and dark' on the Seine almost inspired me to use the word chiaroscuro, but that would be... like... sooooo Thomas Covenant...  
  
- Just a response to a review questioning Kirika's age… Yeah, that was a bit weird in the series. I mean, she looks much younger than Mirelle, but in later episodes it becomes obvious that she can't be much younger at all. My take is that since she looked young, her cover was younger than she actually is at the start of the series. Also, I feel that Noir itself (the anime) probably plays out over the course of at least a year or two of actual time. The jobs that they take all over the world would each take planning etc. as well as time needed to recover from injuries etc. Also, the seasons change from episode to episode. Part of this can be explained by different locations, hemispheres and so on, but not all of it. So I'm saying Kirika is about 20 here, since its set 6 months or so after the end of Noir itself. Also so that Ranma isn't too much older than her. I'll note here that no matter what she looks like, Mirelle is probably between 22 and 24.  
  
- One more thing… (as Uncle would say). I'm bumping the rating up since I realise some people in the fic will be potty mouths. 


	7. Trust

** Chapter 7 - Trust (Ranma's POV)**  
  
I stumbled through the streets back to my apartment. This really had to rank up there as one of the longest days in my life. Ok, I'd been up for a while, and I was probably still having problems with jetlag, but that wasn't really what had done it.  
  
"Aw man..." I mumbled, my hands going up behind my neck as I walked. If I was a smoker, I'd be lighting up right now. Hell, I woulda been chain smoking all day. I mean, seeing her in the park just sixteen hours ago or something with the sun shining behind her, throwing that thigh holster into sharp relief.  
  
I figured later it was probably some sort of ceramic knives, and the gun was in her bag. But anyway, those alarm bells ringing in my head had been telling me that this mousey little girl was probably one of the members of Noir. It was that damn gut instinct thing again.  
  
Watching her for the day just confirmed it for me. She was a killer, no doubt about it. All the signs of it just screamed at me when I was looking for them; the total paranoia about where she sat, where her bag was, what she'd eat and drink, where she stood so I wouldn't have been able to pull a gun and shoot her easily.  
  
Reminded me a bit of the stuff I did usually, come to think of it.  
  
So I'd spent the whole day totally on edge. Maybe. Ok, I should have been, but I wasn't. For some reason, it was so damn easy just to relax and let it go. From that little smile she'd given me in the park in the morning onwards, I just couldn't bring myself to believe she was going to try and splatter my brain all over the scenery any second.  
  
I got back into the apartment and flopped back on my bed.  
  
"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck."  
  
I just didn't know. I mean, had I done the right thing that evening? Saying what I had when we were standing next to the river? I mean, I still wasn't one hundred percent sure about who she was, but her reaction to what I'd said almost got me there. How could I interpret it any other way?  
  
Maybe she was a hardened killer after all? Maybe she and her partner were going to burst into this place at four in the morning and try and off me?  
  
How the hell was I supposed to do my job? I was supposed to be looking for these girls, but I'd already found them. I just didn't want anyone else to know that. So what was I supposed to do tomorrow? Head into work? Be like "Oh yeah, I spent the day sight seeing with this Japanese girl I met in the morning. I think she's part of Noir but don't hold it against her because I think she's trying to change. In fact, she's quite nice, even if she has killed hundreds of people."  
  
"Fuck." Come to think of it, she'd probably personally offed some of the guys in the group I'm supposed to be working with. They'd probably want to kill her, and her partner. For that matter, I should probably be wanting to do it as well.  
  
I got changed and did a few katas just to cool down a bit. I actually changed into a girl as well. Maybe if they came to kill me, that would hold them up for a bit.  
  
Of course, the whole 'people want to kill her' issue was why I'd said what I did. I mean, how like my life was that? She probably didn't have anything against the police at all, she just ended up in these situations where she didn't have a choice. Just like me.  
  
I'd found the whole day a bit unreal, in a way. Here I was in an unfamiliar city, in an unfamiliar country, surrounded by unfamiliar people. Then this girl stumbles into this totally alien setting. Sure I've never met her before, but I know her. Standing on the bank of the Seine that evening with the city lights turning the water into a shimmering multi-hued mirror I'd felt like only the two of us were real. We were just floating there on the surface of the illusion. Who knows, I'm not a poet. I'm not real good at describing that sort of thing, but the feeling sure was strange.  
  
I really had no idea whether I'd see her in the morning at all. Maybe she'd run and I'd never see her again, maybe she'd be back with a sniper rifle. Maybe she'd be back to do some Tai Chi. Maybe spar a bit. Who knew?  
  
If it was either of the first two, I thought as I got into bed, I'd just made a big mistake. I'd just reached out to a professional killer for some sorta selfish, personal reasons. Reached out because there was something really familiar in her eyes.  
  
"Fuck," I murmured as I shut my eyes. Even if she was there, had I made a mistake after all? How was someone who was a professional killer supposed to move on from that?  
  
I didn't sleep well.  
  
The morning arrived way too soon. My eyes really, really didn't want to be open at all, but see, I had to get ready and head out to the park. One way or the other, I really needed to find out what was up. I got dressed in a hurry, grabbed my food, and headed out.  
  
Ok, I got to the park early, and paced back and forwards like some sorta... ummm... animal in a cage. Best not think about that really. I checked my watch for the tenth time.  
  
I felt her coming this time before I could see her. She was a bit early. I checked my watch again. She'd actually come a bit early. That meant something, just like the fact that she was here at all. Maybe this wasn't such a bad morning after all.  
  
The sets we did were way more relaxed than I thought they'd be. I sat down on the grass after I'd cooled off a bit, and she sat down near me. I hadn't actually said anything at all up to now.  
  
"I wasn't sure I'd see you here this morning," I sorta blurted out.  
  
"I wasn't sure I would come," she said quietly.  
  
"I'm really glad you did," I said, shocking the hell outa myself. I looked over at her.  
  
"I'm glad I did too," she said, and I could see that tiny smile of hers, even though she wasn't looking at me. We sat there for a while as the rest of Paris woke up around us.  
  
"I gotta get ready for work now," I told her after a while. I heard this little noise from her, and realised that she was fully aware of the irony of the situation.  
  
"I should get home as well," she said. "Even if I'm not working right now." She said it really seriously, and I got her message.  
  
She wasn't working, so I probably wouldn't end up in an armed face off with her on the other side. At least not today.  
  
"Ok... ummm, I'll see you tomorrow then," I said, getting to my feet and brushing myself off.  
  
"Yeah," she said.  
  
So we walked out of the park. I didn't look back at her, and I figure she wasn't looking either. It was all part of this weird tightrope act we'd just started. At least she was trying real hard to stay on the rope, the way I was.  
  
That meant something. I still wasn't quite sure why we were both walking on that rope in the first place but for some reason I was reminded of Akane asking me if I wanted to be friends all those years ago back in Nerima.  
  
A little while later I was sitting on the subway, heading off to work. She'd really stuck her neck out as well, just like I had this morning. I mean, whatever worries I had, I guess she had the same sort of thing going on with her as well.  
  
My mind wandered about, looking for something to grab onto. Kirika. Not a bad name really. Wonder what her family name was? Not really up to Nerima calibre when it came to looks of course. Nice smile though. She had something about her under all the paranoia and fatigue that shone through with that smile. She was actually really... cute.  
  
My brain froze up when I realised just what it was that I was thinking. I guess it's real lucky the old lady next to me didn't understand Japanese, 'cause it meant she didn't get real shocked when I buried my face in my hands and started to swear.  
  
"Saotome," I said to myself, "you are such an idiot."  
  
Elsewhere...  
  
A young woman walking out of a park is met by another, older, taller woman. A blond.  
  
"So Kirika... you should have told me that you'd met a guy."  
  
"Mirelle! I didn't expect you here."  
  
"So is this the senior Matsui you were talking about?"  
  
A pause.  
  
"Mirelle! No! No! Ummm, he's just someone who's helping with my martial arts, that's all."  
  
"So you didn't spend yesterday with him?"  
  
"Well yes..."  
  
"You sure you didn't mean 'marital arts'?"  
  
"Mirelle!"  
  
Much uncomfortable blushing ensues. But when she's absolutely, totally sure nobody is watching, the young woman surprises herself with a tiny smile.  
  
**Chapter 7 Author's Notes**  
  
- sorry about the change of scene thing, but I thought I needed to show Kirika's side of things as well, and also drag Mirelle kicking and screaming into this thing.   
  
- I've been trying to keep people in character as much as I can. Dunno how I'm doing, but comments and suggestions are welcome.  
  
- by the way, sorry to the reviewers who'd prefer longer chapters. I write at a truly glacial pace, and keeping them short is the only way I can actually try to update in a semi-regular fashion. Next chapter is already longer than this one though, so…  
  
- also for those who haven't seen Noir, I can't recommend it enough. If you want to take a look, you might be able to find some / all of the DVD's at a Blockbuster video store… at least you can at the one nearest where I am. 


	8. The Storm Begins to Break

** Chapter 8 - The Storm Begins to Break (Mirelle's POV... mostly)**  
  
A watcher would see a picture of tranquillity in a park in Paris early every morning. Every day for three weeks, two people meet in the darkness, or in the sun. And they do martial arts. Sometimes Tai Chi. Sometimes they spar with each other. He's better, but she matches his grace, even if she can't match his skill.  
  
You may wonder how martial artists sparring could be tranquil at all, but you would just have to watch them to understand. Every movement spoke of a delicate dance the two were teaching to each other as they went along. It's lucky that both of them were very quick learners.  
  
In fact, as time passed, someone very observant might notice that the park was being occupied slightly earlier every morning. Someone very, very observant might see the two people meeting outside the park. Someone using night vision equipment might have seen one nervously take the other's hand and hold it the whole way through their walk home very early one morning after hours of conversation at a corner bistro.  
  
That someone was doing all the watching detailed above, and in fact making reports on it to other people should really come as no surprise.  
  
A phone rings in a police station one morning.  
"You are being activated. Stand by for instructions."  
"Yes, ok. That's good."  
A pulse quickens in anticipation of action.  
  
On the other side of the world, another phone rings in a hotel room.  
"Prime, you are being activated. Proceed to Paris. You know what to do."  
"Understood."  
A hand reaches for an old dented potty training seat, but hesitates, and then picks up grenades and firearms instead. All of them disappear inside an expensive leather trench coat. After all, people change as time passes.  
  
In quite a nice apartment on the sixth floor of a building in Paris, someone receives a heavily encrypted e-mail from a contact they hadn't been in touch with in quite some time. It says:  
  
_They're on the move again. I don't know what triggered it, but things have been crazy around here just these last two days. Watch yourself. I'll send more details when there are some to send._  
  
**(Mirelle's POV)**  
  
I'd been afraid of this. I'd almost been able to convince myself that the little bit of freelance work I was doing wouldn't attract the attention of Les Soldats. It was, after all, my daily bread and Kirika's too. But it was a foolish hope, and my encounter with the killers in the sewer about a month ago had simply been the first warning shot in the battle that was about to start again.  
  
That Kirika and I were Noir, the true Noir, meant that there were probably certain ritualistic formulas that needed to be followed within the Soldats organization. There were probably elements within Les Soldats that needed to be convinced of the truth of the new ways that had been embraced by the leadership.  
  
The sudden increase in seemingly random unsolved murders across Europe that I'd been tracking in the news certainly made this seem likely. But now an agenda had been decided on. The assassination squads were on the move again, drifting into Paris with their masks and their guns. Their target was again Noir. My contacts told me this much. So we'd just have to fight again and keep winning to live.  
  
The unknown factor in all of this was a certain Ranma Saotome. I'd started the background check on the man the day after I'd met up with Kirika outside the park. Even if Kirika hadn't been willing or able to admit how she felt about him that day, I had a pretty good idea. The last few weeks had just confirmed my initial suspicions as they saw more and more of each other. I'd even seen them holding hands last night. So this Ranma was Kirika's boyfriend.  
  
He was also a policeman who'd been sent to Paris to capture or kill Noir, who was working right now with their special taskforce. He was also a skilled martial artist, and a survivor of most of the bloodiest and roughest police cases in Japan in the last five or six years.  
  
Before this, the top of his graduating class at the police academy even though some of the instructors seemed to hate his guts from their comments on his files.  
  
Before this, a high school student with low to average grades at the 'infamously violent Furinkan high school'. Before the age of sixteen, things were very hazy and I didn't have a good grasp on his early life at all. When I confronted Kirika with all of this information in one huge packet... well we had our first and only real argument with each other.  
  
We started talking about him, and I was really surprised by how much Kirika had come to trust the guy in such a short time. Plus, she seemed to know he was here to kill us. He was the enemy plain and simple, and a capable one at that. I don't know too much about martial arts beyond my training, but he had a reputation for being good in the police, and the Japanese police were unusually oriented towards martial arts as it was. So he was a serious threat to us, and he had to die, it was that simple.   
  
I'd told Kirika all this. I'd shown her the files on some of the stuff he'd been involved in. She just looked sad as she looked through them, and told me that I didn't have to worry, she trusted him. But she didn't explain why.  
  
Ok, maybe I'd been a bit out of line when I told her that no matter how good the sex was, it wasn't worth us getting killed for. How was I supposed to know they'd only just started holding hands? I just figured that a guy who looked like him would have been moving faster with a girl as inexperienced as her.  
  
I asked her what the hell he'd been doing before the age of 16, because there weren't any records. Maybe she should ask him instead of trusting him. Maybe she should ask him what he did for a living. Maybe she should ask him about the redhead who kept showing up in reports about him for some reason. Maybe she should ask him about the fifteen cultists he'd 'been forced to defend himself against' in a Tokyo hotel.  
  
I not sure what else I said to her, but something really got her mad, and she started actually shouting back at me. Saying "Can't you see he understands me, Mirelle? Can't you see it?" I sure as hell couldn't understand her at all, and after some more shouting, I eventually just had to fall asleep listening to Kirika sniffling in her room.   
  
This morning she stopped and apologised to me on the way out to spar with him. Said she was sorry she was so emotional. Said she loved me like a big sister and a mother all in one. Said he was her second real friend, and that they understood each other like she understood me.  
  
She actually blushed when she said friend.  
  
Then she ran out the door to go meet up with him.  
  
I couldn't leave things sitting like that. That's why I was sitting in a chair in the apartment of Ranma Saotome with a silenced pistol in one hand and a tape recorder ready to record, waiting for him to get back from work. I'd get some answers from him one way or another, even if Kirika wasn't going to talk. If they were the wrong answers, I'd leave the body and bring the tape for Kirika to hear. She'd hurt in the short term, but hurt was always better than dead.  
  
Around 7:00 in the evening I heard him in the hallway, grumbling, opening the deadbolt and the lock. I lifted my gun ready to threaten or to fire. He walked into the room. I'm not sure if he heard me take a breath to tell him to put his hands up. I've never seen anyone move that fast. Ever. I got some sort of impression of him spinning and moving towards me, but that's all. Before I really knew it, he was above me, knocking my gun hand back, his eyes shining cold grey in the waning light, his hand clenched in a fore-knuckle fist and poised to strike at my throat. I hadn't even had time to tighten my finger on the trigger of my gun.  
  
He just looked at me.  
  
"Mirelle, isn't it?" he asked.  
  
I manage to grunt out some sort of affirmative and that must have been good enough for him. He just took my gun and threw it on the bed, sitting down himself.  
  
"You're the second person who tried to kill me today, so 'scuse me if I was a bit rough with ya."  
  
I nod. I see some blood on the collar of his shirt as he flops back on the bed with a sigh. And then suddenly pops up again, looking at me.  
  
"Hey, before I forget, do you know what sort of flowers she likes?" he asks, blushing a bit.  
  
I find that my mouth is still hanging open a bit.  
  
He blinks at me. "Ummm... you know Kirika, right?"  
  
I nod.  
  
"So, ummm... what sorta flowers do you think she'd like?" He asks again. He's assumed I can speak Japanese. "Look," he says, "would this go better if I threatened you a bit and stuff first? You know, wave the gun around, scream at you a bit, tie you up or something? I was just hoping we could skip that bit and get down to talking... you know... it's been a long day."  
  
"Sorry," I manage. "So you're ok with the fact that I was waiting here with a gun?"  
  
"Yeah, whatever," he says, shrugging out of his suit jacket and hanging it up. "I almost figured you might be here after Kirika had said you'd been asking about me. That's basically why I didn't just rip your head off through the wall, ya know?"  
  
I blanch a bit. Could he have just done that? I really didn't know what he was capable of. I didn't know what he'd do when I pushed him.  
  
"I actually really... ummm... like her, you know?" He said, starting to talk again without any sort of prompting from me. "You don't need to worry about me hurting her or turning her in or something. I know, sorta weird with me being a cop and all, but I guess that's just life."  
  
He shrugged out of the holster and tossed it onto the bed. If he'd tried to draw his gun, I might have had time to stop him. Maybe.  
  
"So you know who she is?" I ask. "You know what she does?"  
  
"Yeah, since the day we met really. She sticks out like a sore thumb if ya know what you're lookin for. But I guess it's cool, I mean she doesn't want to be killing people, and I can live with her past if she can deal with mine."  
  
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm afraid I really just don't understand. If you've read our files, you know the sort of thing we've done. You're a police officer. I've read your files too. You've killed people like us."  
  
"Naw," he said with a shrug, as he unbuttoned his shirt. "Hold on a sec, ok? I just gotta change." And with that he walked into the bathroom, leaving me in a room with two guns. Was he cocky? Or insane? I just sat still. Nothing I'd read prepared me for dealing with him.  
  
"See, the only ones I've killed have been the real bastards. Your files don't read a lot different from mine when it comes to the sort people you've left dead behind you. Unless you've whacked some kids I don't know about or something?" he asked, poking his head back around the door jamb.  
  
I shake my head. He comes back into the room again after a while. I couldn't see any marking at all on his neck next to the bloodstain on his collar, but from the amount of blood on the collar, he must have been hit there. No bandage either. I looked back up at his face.  
  
"Look," he says, "I don't know what it was when I met up with her, but I thought I had stuff in common with her. Maybe her life is crazy, and she's done some stuff she regrets. Same with me. But she's real tired... I think that's what I saw, you know? And maybe I figured we could just talk and be friends or something, but... ummm... yeah. Now I guess we're sorta more than that, I guess, and we do understand each other real well after all." I could see a light flush across his cheeks, and realise that he was actually embarrassed to be talking about this with me.  
  
"And that's it?" I ask.  
  
"Yeah, that's it," he said. "I'm not a big one for thinking ahead, 'cause things usually mess up when I do. Maybe we can help each other out a bit and get out of this mess or something. Maybe we can just hang out with each other, and talk and stuff, I don't know. I hope you're ok with that. I mean, she really likes you and stuff."  
  
"And you're not going to hurt her?" I ask.  
  
"If I get anything to say about it, nobody's gonna hurt her," he said. "Hey, look, if you want to keep on talking, you can come up with me to the roof, but I really gotta work out for a bit, or I'm gonna go crazy."  
  
He tossed my gun back to me where I was sitting in the chair.  
  
"No, I think that's all," I trail off, still not keeping up with him. He was just letting me go? Just like that? He opened the front door for me, and motioned me out. I turned to him once I was in the hallway. "You know if you hurt her at all, I'll be coming back trying to kill you, right?"  
  
"Yeah," he said. "I wouldn't want it any other way. I know I got the drop on you this time, but I've seen your files, and I know what you can do. I'm not blowing you off or anything, you know? I just mean I'm glad you're out there lookin' out for her."  
  
I nod, and walk off down the hall. His door shuts. I'm not really that much better off now than I was. But when he'd said that he understood her, I thought back to what Kirika had shouted at me the night before, and a few things got a bit clearer. Maybe it didn't matter so much what they did, but just that they felt some sort of connection.  
  
Who was I kidding? I still didn't understand them, but at least he seemed serious about taking care of her, and he seemed to have some of the skills it took too.  
  
And why were his cloths soaked when he came in?  
  
I made my way home slowly, taking detours, thinking things over.  
  
Kirika called a greeting to me from her room when I got back to our apartment.  
  
"Ranma called and said the two of you had met up and talked a bit. Have you cleared everything up with him, Mirelle?" she asked me.  
  
I was thankful to him. He could have told her I was there to kill him, and I'm not sure what that would have done to my friendship with her. Maybe I'd just have to trust her a bit more as well. I walked into her bedroom.  
  
"I think maybe I'm starting to..." and I trailed off. Kirika was sitting on the bed surrounded by a wide variety of weapons, including a submachine gun, several pistols, and a whole collection of knives, ammunition, and aerofoil grenades. I hadn't even known she owned them.  
  
"That's great Mirelle," she said, with a little smile at me.  
  
"What the hell is all of that?"   
  
"Ranma called before he talked with you," she said. "He'd been attacked at work by a Soldat member, and he wanted to warn me. He got hurt Mirelle. Not bad, but he got hurt."  
  
That explained the comments he'd made, and the blood on his collar. I wondered how that had happened. It must have been someone good to make a mark on him. I took a closer look at Kirika.  
  
"They won't hurt him again, Mirelle, not if I can help it," she said and slipped the full magazine of ammunition back into the butt of the high power FN 5.7 Tactical pistol she was holding. She looked mad in a way I'd only seen once or twice before, and I suddenly felt a resolve to check over all my weapons again. I was going to need them.   
  
With Les Soldats on the move again, and targeting Ranma as well as us, the shit had well and truly hit the fan.  
  
**Chapter 8 Author's Notes**  
  
- Sorry that I skipped a bit of time here and basically glossed over the start of Ranma and Kirika's relationship. But trusting each other and just starting to talk would have taken quite a while, and I wanted to move things along a bit. If anyone really thinks its vital information, I can always go back and write a side story or something.  
- Ok, and I'm changing POV again. Sorry people. This will be the last time a Mirelle POV chapter shows up for a while... I just needed to explore how she was looking at the developping relationship between Kirika and Ranma. As for why Kirika isn't explaining herself more... well, she isn't so good at that sort of thing, and plus she's probably afraid of being teased more (with good reason)  
- The next chapter will backtrack a bit and deal with Ranma's day and then move forward from there. Sorry about the weird arrangement of time, but as I plotted stuff out and wrote it just ended up being like that. 


	9. A Day in the Life of Ranma Saotome

** Chapter 9 – A Day in the Life of Ranma Saotome. (Ranma's POV)**  
  
_(Starts before the end of the previous chapter, and runs until after it finished)_  
  
I was standing on the grass in the park, running through a few forms as I waited for Kirika to show up. She was running a tiny bit late this morning, but it didn't really bother me. I knew she wasn't quite as much of a morning person as I was. I absent-mindedly added nine vitals kicks into the form I was doing. Not really traditional, but they just felt right there.  
  
Doing so much Tai Chi had been good for me really, forcing me to concentrate on smoothness and perfection in my forms. Over the month or so I'd been here, I think I'd captured something I'd been missing for a while in my arts. I was flowing again. Of course it could be the relative lack of craziness in my life recently. Something inside me added it was also because of the sparring partner I'd had. Instead of kicking that thought down into the depths of my brain like I woulda before, I let it travel around a bit. I slipped in a chestnut fist aimed at the floating seed of a dandelion, sliding across the grass to follow it as it was buffeted by the displaced air of the attack. Damn, I was good. Hah. And I hadn't felt like this in years.  
  
Holding her hand last night had felt really nice too. Heck, the last time I'd held a girl's hand had been during the infamous Psychotic Pachinko Parlour Bomber Twins incident last year, and that had been in quite a different set of circumstances. I dunno, as well as being small and cute, like the rest of her, her hand felt sort of like an anchor to me. Hell, years ago that woulda terrified me. An anchor for me? No way. But now I guess things were different, because the sense of belonging I had with her fit me like... the last puzzle piece. It was hard to describe.  
  
But she was here in the park now, walking towards me with that little smile she seemed to have a lot. Nice to be able to make a girl smile, just for once. I bow to her, and we start to dance. Ok, we're doing Tai Chi together, but it's probably the closest we'll get. After all life will send us spinning off in different directions soon, and I don't know how to dance anyway. That thought doesn't make me feel really good, and come to think of it she doesn't seem so centred this morning.  
  
"Hey...," I say to her, stopping my set, "what's up? You're... messin' up this morning."  
  
"I'm sorry Ranma," she says to me, stopping her set as well. "Mirelle talked to me about you last night. She doesn't really trust you."  
  
"Man... I mean, I can totally understand. I don't think I'd trust me, if I was her."  
  
"Ranma," she says with a smile, "you're being silly."  
  
"Yup," I say, glorying in my ability to bring out that smile of hers. I still got good memories of that one day she was lookin' down and I'd actually made her laugh out loud, teaching her the 'Crouch of the Wild Tiger'. "You think there's anything I can do to change her mind?"  
  
"I don't know. With time I'm sure she'd trust you, but..."  
  
"You think I don't have much time?"  
  
"Mmmm." She makes sort of a non-committal noise, and sits down on the grass. "Mirelle and I... we might have to defend ourselves again soon. We've heard rumors."  
  
I sigh and sprawl down next to her. "Maybe it'd be better if we didn't meet here every morning then. Maybe just when we call and agree to meet somewhere? In code, I guess."  
  
She looks relieved and sad too. "Ranma, that would be best, but..."  
  
I grab onto her hand and give it a squeeze. I can see her blush, and know she can see me blushing too.  
  
And then we just sit there, holding hands.  
  
Getting ready for work and getting there are one of the few times during the day when I have some time for thinking. I was down, I couldn't deny it. Thinking that life was going to separate the two of us, and then less than an hour later have it turn out just that way was too disheartening. But I couldn't think of an alternative. I was in the Police. At least in theory she was an assassin. I mean, I might like the girl, but what was there to fight for?  
  
Anyway, it's not like we were having tons of soul searching conversations or anything. Sure we'd spent quite a bit of time together. Ok, especially in the last couple days we'd spent a lot of time together, but there were a lot of topics that were off limits for both of us. I didn't ask about her life, and she didn't ask about mine. We talked about food, music, martial arts, you name it. Lots of stuff.  
  
But I didn't ever ask, "So what's life like when you're one of the premiere assassins in the world?"  
  
Somehow things were just left in limbo. Our contact with each other was separate from the rest of our lives. It might be comfortable, but what's a relationship like that really worth? Maybe the best thing we could do was to just drift apart, and eventually never see each other again.  
  
I wasn't really prepared for how the bottom dropped out of my stomach when I thought of not seeing her. Or at least that's what it felt like. Dammit. It's easy to think all sorts of romantic thoughts when you're flowing through a kata in a park in the early morning sun. Sittin on a subway heading in to work will bring you back down with a crash. There were some real problems with us being together that I couldn't just blow off and ignore.  
  
Sooner or later, someone was going to see me and her together. For all I know, that'd already happened. I'm sure the Special Crimes section I was working with would be real happy to hear I'd been dating one of their bitter enemies for a month or so. Hell, I had my own set of enemies who'd be happy to use her as leverage against me. For that matter, she probably had her own collection of pissed off people from her past. Maybe someone would kidnap me for a change, wait for her to come storming into their mountain stronghold to stop our marriage. Yeah. Somehow I got the feeling that the guys I'd done the rescuing from were overall a bit nicer than the collected evil hitmen of Europe.  
  
At least from my side though, I was a bit more comfortable about Kirika and her ability to take care of herself. She was sharp as a blade when it came to martial arts, even if she wasn't in my league, and I knew that wasn't her real strength anyway. I could see in her eyes sometimes that she could be as hard and as cold as she needed to be. Sure she used guns not swords, but she had the same metal in her as any samurai.  
  
All that strength, but she was cute too. Sure, I might have thought at first she was a bit plain lookin, and maybe she would be for some people. Not important though. She was so serious most of the time, with a little spark of goofy humour deep inside somewhere. Smart, modest, pretty... all sorts of good stuff.  
  
I almost missed my stop, but scrambled off in time and headed into the station. I met up with my partner, and could feel there was something off right away. I mean, he was in a good mood, but there was something more there. He was pretty excited about something, but trying to cover it up. I was a bit surprised, since he was a pretty laid back cynical guy, but I suppose everyone has their moments.  
  
"Excuse me Frank, but I notice you are excited today about something," I asked as we walked upstairs to our department. He looked at me a bit surprised, but recovered quick.  
  
"You can tell?" he asked. "The fact of the matter is, I've just got a tip from one of my old contacts that might lead us to some new information. The whole thing might seem a bit strange, so I haven't talked to any of the others about it, but after lunch we can go out and see what we can find out."  
  
"Sure. I understand about some contacts being hard to talk to others about," I said. I was thinking of some of mine back in Japan and other places. Three hundred year old panty thieves could be a bit much for some people to swallow.  
  
The last month working in Paris had been more than a bit odd for me. I'd been in situations before when all the truth about a case hadn't quite made it into my report. Ok, I'd been in that situation a lot actually. After all, if you didn't want a quick trip to the loony bin it wasn't wise to hand in reports detailing your arrest of a giant ghost cat for sexual harassment.  
  
Worst mistake I made that first week on the job back in Japan.  
  
But I'd never actually been in a situation where I was dating the target of an entire special taskforce, that I was incidentally a member of.  
  
No matter what Kodachi might tell ya, I might have been on the task force but no way was I dating her.  
  
Anyway, so I'd made some discoveries for them. I'd looked over the data I had and pointed out some things about the crime scenes that they hadn't noticed. I'd engaged in some pretty thorough re-enactments of some of the fights with them. I thought maybe if I convinced them just how dangerous Noir was, they'd be less willing to rush into a situation. Maybe their hesitation would give Noir a chance to get away without having to hurt or kill any of them.  
  
But more than anything else, I was hurting because each dead body I read about in the reports was one more that I knew was haunting Kirika's thoughts.  
  
Maybe that's why it would never work out for me and Akane. Here I was, a martial artist, dedicated to protecting the weak, and I was feeling sympathy for someone who'd killed others in cold blood, and who would almost certainly kill again.  
  
I think Akane would be horrified. She wouldn't understand at all, and for that matter neither would Ryoga, Ukyo, Mom, Kasumi, or any of the others in Nerima.  
  
Looking back on it, I think my perspective started to change when I tore Saffron apart, and things sorta snowballed from there. Of course Saffron came back, but none of the others have. Each death on my hands was one more nightmare that I had to deal with, and the others in Nerima who were more sheltered would never totally understand.  
  
You should feel horror when you kill a person. Taking life should never be acceptable. Eventually though, you don't feel it as much. You think you should feel it every time, feel it deep down in your core or something. That's only right, after all. Somehow it doesn't work like that though, and the feeling gets duller and duller until you can tell yourself you aren't feeling anything at all.  
  
Sorta like the breaking point training, but much, much worse.  
  
Anyway, I was still having all sorts of deep thoughts when Frank came and got me, and drove me out to meet his contact. I'm sure I wasn't very good company for him in the car, but he was still making an effort, chattering away at me regardless of my short responses.  
  
He seemed really up about this, like maybe he'd just had a major breakthrough. I hoped he hadn't, in a way. I mean, someone actually getting a clue about what was going on would make things far more difficult.  
  
On the other hand, maybe it would be better if Kirika had to leave, to go somewhere else and hide for a few years. Maybe it would be better if I was off this case and back in Japan. I don't know, no matter what I'd like to think, maybe I wasn't really the sort of thing she needed in her life, and maybe she wasn't what I needed in mine.  
  
That seemed like the most sensible course of action to take after all.  
  
We pulled up at the entrance to one of the huge cemeteries in the city. While in some ways that might seem to be an odd place to meet with a contact, who knew? Even in our line of work, there were still enough people who loved drama.  
  
You know, they wanted to stage the arrest in front of news crews, or the hired gun who wants a fight in an abandoned temple in the dead of night. Whatever. It's all down to personal taste I guess.  
  
The sky overhead was a bit dark, but didn't look too threatening. Thank goodness. I'd been lucky so far with the weather since I'd arrived here. The lack of rain might have been hurting all those Parisians with gardens outside their suburban homes, but it suited me just fine. If I didn't have to I didn't really want to explain my curse to another group of people.  
  
We walked further and further into the cemetery. This contact was obviously one of those people who confused deserted with safe and private. In fact, there's probably no better way to let someone with a shotgun microphone hear everything you're saying, but there you go.  
  
Francois stopped, shielded from view by trees and other tombstones and crypts. He had been silent for the entire walk in, but turned to face me now with a smirk on his face.  
  
"Saotome Ranma," he said. "Prepare yourself for death."  
  
And then he charged in to the attack.  
  
I was so stunned that his first two strikes hit me, staggering me and driving me backwards.  
  
He kept at me fast and hard. His strikes were direct and precise, and he still had that damn smirk on his face. Between the surprise and the hits, I was having trouble rebuilding my defences, and he kept pressing me.  
  
He'd been holding back when we sparred. Bastard.  
  
But so had I.  
  
He committed too much to a wicked hook kick that would have almost taken my head off if it'd connected. But it didn't.  
  
I was back out of his engagement distance, with my defences up before he could do anything about it.  
  
He roared in again but he just didn't have the skill to pressure me when I was ready for him. The initiative was mine when I wanted to take it.  
  
I took in the surroundings again. Isolated. Cut off from view.  
  
A fresh grave already dug.  
  
For me.  
  
"Surprised at my skill," he asked, taunting me as he moved in to attack again.  
  
I wasn't, not anymore. I absorbed and contained his attacks with no effort.  
  
He lost the smirk on his face. He started leading up to the crescent kick I'd seen when I first sparred with him. His ki strike then.  
  
I braced, prepared for the energy.  
  
The crescent kick blazed in.  
  
Not a flicker of ki.  
  
I saw a glint of sun off his shoe, and threw myself backwards in a flip.  
  
He stood, smirking again: a blade visible at the tip of his shoe.  
  
I reached up and felt blood on my neck.  
  
The fact that my partner was trying to kill me finally sunk in. In fact, he'd almost done it. He'd almost done it with a cheap parlour trick.  
  
My control snapped.  
  
He was already moving in for another strike when my battle aura snapped out, pounding the grass flat in a circle around me.  
  
I jammed his kick, beating his leg down with mine, leaving him limping.  
  
He tried to absorb my snap kick but couldn't stop the palm strike that dislocated his shoulder.  
  
He tried to draw his gun, but I slapped it out of his hand and shattered it in midair with a kick.  
  
He folded up around my first as it drove into his stomach, and he fell back into the grave he'd prepared for me, gasping for breath and gagging.  
  
I jumped into the grave after him, focussing all my anger into a roiling ball of ki in my hand and prepared to strike. At this range it would blow through him like an anti-tank missile.  
  
And then I stopped.  
  
I controlled. I slipped down the long, cold path into the soul of ice.  
  
I let the ki dissipate slowly, straightened up and jumped out of the pit.  
  
"You will be in work tomorrow as if this had never happened. I will ask you some questions then."  
  
"If you try to escape this, I will kill you," I stated. "You got that, bitch?"  
  
He nodded weakly, and I walked away, leaving him lying there.  
  
Half an hour later, I was still walking, and still angry. But I was angry at myself more than anything else. It had been sloppy to let him hit me at the start, shameful to let him tag me with that little knife, and disgraceful that I'd almost killed him right then and there.  
  
Still, I needed to stop brooding about it and get some things done. I flipped open my cell and dialled Kirika's number from memory. That was one number I'd never be storing in my phone.  
  
"Hello," she answered. I wasn't really prepared for how my heart somehow unclenched when I heard her voice.  
  
"Hi, it's me," I said, avoiding my name. Just in case. "Look, someone just tried something against me. You should be careful."  
  
"Oh..." she said, real quiet. "Do you think it was connected to..." she trailed off.  
  
"Yeah, I think so," I said. "But don't worry about it. I didn't really get hurt."  
  
"You got hurt?" she asked. "Are you sure you're ok?"  
  
"Yeah," I said, "I really am ok. Look, I'll get in touch with you later from a land line and tell you more. Take care of yourself, ok?"  
  
"You too," she said, "please be safe," and rang off.  
  
She sounded really bad about it. I mean, I suppose I can understand, 'cause if she got hurt in something involving someone from my past, I'd be pretty upset.  
  
That was what it boiled down to really. Each of us had a past that wasn't going to let us go easily. Really though, since when was my life easy?  
  
All of a sudden it hit me, and I stopped walking and stood in the middle of the sidewalk.  
  
I'd been thinking about things too much, I guess. There was something for me to fight for after all. I could fight for her, and maybe, just maybe, she'd fight for me. Between the two of us, there probably wasn't much we couldn't take on.  
  
Standing there, I was getting more excited, and feeling more positive about things than I had most of the day. It was a big risk for both of us. We'd have to go out on a limb, expose ourselves, roll the dice, all that stuff. But she was worth me taking a risk for. Screw the tightrope act.  
  
I ran back to my apartment.  
  
Not even the dousing with cold water, and having to use some tea to change back irritated me. Ok, I'm lying. It did, and I was still grumbling when I got back into my place and finally met up with Mirelle. Kirika had told me a lot about her actually.  
  
I hope she didn't think I was too weird. I mean, I didn't really concentrate that much on her. She was there to protect Kirika, so she was on my side. Even if she didn't know it yet.  
  
I didn't really notice at the time, but the cut on my neck had already healed. I wasn't sure when that'd happened, but it was a bit of a surprise. I'd have to look into that later on.  
  
After she left I flipped up onto the roof and worked out for a little while. Calmed myself down.  
  
Then I showered, headed out, and called Kirika from a telephone box.  
  
"Hello?" she answered again.  
  
"Hiya," I said. "Everything is fine. I was just wondering..." I trailed off. Even my mood wasn't quite enough to make saying this sort of thing easy for me.  
  
"Yes," she prompted.  
  
"Well, I was wondering if you could meet up with me tonight. I... ummm... I really want to talk to you about some stuff."  
  
"Oh... of course... if you'd like to," she said. I couldn't see her, but I could hear the smile in her voice.  
  
"No need to blush about it, ok?" I said. "I'll drop by sometime after ten and tap on your window."  
  
"Ra... you... well you're blushing too," she said.  
  
Sadly, she was right. There was a few seconds of embarrassed silence from both of us as we tried to get our capillaries under control.  
  
"Oh, Mirelle dropped by a bit earlier," I said. "I hope I didn't say anything too weird to her; I was thinking about some other stuff."  
  
"What did she ask you about?"  
  
"Well, I'm not exactly sure. Umm... I did tell her that I'd do my best to protect you though."  
  
There was a bit of a shocked silence from her. This wasn't really something that we'd talked about before.  
  
"That's sorta what I wanted to talk to you about," I said. "I'll see you later, ok?"  
  
"Ok," she said. "I'll wait for you. Take care."  
  
"You too," I said. I had a few things to pick up on my way there like a bit of food for the two of us, and of course a thermos of hot water, and one of cold water.  
  
I guess it was time to lay my cards out on the table, and hope that she wanted to do the same thing. I also had to hope that meeting a certain red-headed alter ego wouldn't drive her screaming into the night. Damn Jusenkyo.  
  
**End Chapter 9**  
  
Ok, this one was a bit longer than usual. On the other hand, I still didn't cover everything I'd really intended to. The extra space was really taken up by Ranma thinking about his relationship with Kirika. The way I see it, the two of them have gotten really close, but at the same time they've both been holding a lot back from each other. He just had to make the decision to throw himself into it, and worry about the consequences later.  
  
There was some action in this chapter at last, I guess. Ranma will have more of a chance to think about the fight itself and what it'll mean when he actually meets up with Francois to talk.  
  
If the fight seemed a bit brutal, it was intentional. First, to demonstrate with actions some of the ways Ranma has changed over 10 years. Second, to set the tone of things a bit. Like I said in the intro of the first chapter, I'm aiming for darker than Ranma, and about the same as Noir.  
  
I know that the constant changes of Point of View between chapters is really bugging some people, and I'm sorry if it is. I'm going to continue writing in the same way though. At the moment for me, it's really the only way I can explore each of the characters. I mean, at the moment I'm really not sure what the complete story is about how Kirika is feeling after she's been dating Ranma for a month, but after I get the next chapter written, I will =). Please just bear with me, gentle readers! (Yes, I've been re-watching Tenchi Muyo TV Time and Space adventures recently.)  
  
Sorry there seemed to be some problems when I uploaded this chapter. Hopefully it's fixed now. 


	10. Late Night Conversations

** Chapter 10 – Late Night Conversations (Kirika's POV)  
  
**I put the phone down after talking with Ranma. If he was going to come over, I'd have to clean my room up a bit.  
  
I looked around me and sighed. For most girls this would mean tidying up cloths. The closest I could get to that was the rag I'd just been cleaning my guns with.  
  
The call I'd gotten from Ranma earlier in the afternoon had caught me unprepared. I'd let my guard down over the past while. Not against threats, but against my life. For a month now, or even longer, I had a pretty normal life. I'd been taking some courses online at a university, so I had reading to do for them. I'd been spending time with Mirelle, and actually gone shopping for cloths with her.  
  
I had another friend now as well. I'd been sparring with Ranma in the mornings, and meeting up with him sometimes after he finished work. We'd never really talked about it, but I guess he was sort of actually my boyfriend.  
  
Was I blushing again?  
  
Then he'd called me up. The attack on him reminded me that I was a professional assassin being hunted by a vast international secret society, not just an average student. I hadn't been prepared for what the attack on Ranma had made me feel either. Just thinking about the whole thing was enough to make me angry again.  
  
Damn them, hadn't they taken enough from me already? I have no real life. I have no real memories. I have no real skills. They'd taken all of that away from me, and now they wanted to take Ranma away from me as well. Darn it. Thinking about it was making me tear up.  
  
He'd probably think I'm some sort of weepy, clingy little girl if he knew. He'd probably think I was pathetic. But of all my memories those of the times I'd spent with him were the very best.  
  
Now they wanted to take that away from me as well.  
  
I would show them no mercy. None at all.  
  
Fuck them.  
  
I slapped a full magazine into the second pistol and the submachine gun, and then cleaned the rest up. Mirelle had been a bit surprised to see all of weaponry I had with me, but I knew she probably had a few survival kits hidden around the city that I didn't know about. Speaking of Mirelle, I had to warn her that Ranma was going to visit me, just so she wasn't surprised when he arrived. I wondered what he meant when he said that he was going to tap on the window. We lived on the top floor after all.  
  
I had to decide what to wear before he got here. I could ask Mirelle since she'd helped me shop for the new clothing, but she'd probably spend more time teasing me than helping. Honestly, sometimes the way she went on about Ranma and I… it was so frustrating.  
  
It was going to be fairly cold this evening for the time of year, and it seemed maybe that we would be talking up on the roof of our apartment. If I wear the black blouse, then I would probably get cold up there. Of course, if I got cold, then maybe Ranma would put his arm around me… I stopped myself from thinking anymore about that before my blush got any worse than it was already. No need to think of that, silly girl. What would he think of me if he turned up to get me and I wasn't wearing clothing suited to the situation? It took me a while, but I made a choice. The shirt and pants were pretty comfortable, and I thought they looked quite nice. I stepped up close to the new mirror in my room and looked at myself. Mirelle had said that the colour of the shirt brought out my eyes well.  
  
I wasn't sure about that, but the brown shirt and black pants would have low visibility on the roof and if I didn't tuck the shirt in, I could wear the back holster for the one of the FN pistols. They were almost twice the length of my usual Beretta, and quite a bit harder to conceal. Luckily they were almost the same weight, so they weren't quite as much of a problem as they might seem.  
  
Sighing, I settled down on my bed and pretend to do reading for my history class. I didn't actually get any reading done though. I wonder about what Ranma had said to me on the phone. He wanted to protect me? Maybe it was some sort of code? Were we going to be attacked? Was he being forced to lead Les Soldats into the apartment? Or maybe, just maybe, he thought I was worth protecting.  
  
Just a minute before 10:00 I heard a gentle tapping on my window. I jumped up and opened the heavy blackout curtains, only to find Ranma hanging upside down outside the window, holding a backpack in one hand.  
  
"Ranma, what are you doing out there? It's not safe!" I said.  
  
"Aw, it's fine," he said. "Give me your hand, and I'll pull you up onto the roof, ok?" I reached out to him. As he pulled me up, dangling over the street five stories below, I was just glad that I hadn't worn a skirt.  
  
What a strange thought to have.  
  
We sat down together, leaning up against one of the chimneys. It was actually one of the things that made me comfortable being with Ranma. Both of us would instinctively sit so we could both cover all the sight lines in a situation. Paranoia seems a lot easier to take when there's two of you acting the same way.  
  
"Are you alright, Ranma," I asked. "Who was it that attacked you?"  
  
"It was my partner on the task force, of all people," he said. "Stupid… idiot." I could tell he'd wanted to call him something else.  
  
"Yeah, he led me out into the cemetery where he had this grave dug for me and everything," he continued. "Yeesh, I mean not only was he trying to kill me and all, but what sort of idiot sets up some sorta big drama production like that?"  
  
"But he hurt you," I ask him. I know I'm sounding like a worry wart to him, but I don't know how badly he's been hurt, or where.  
  
"Well, he went for me hand to hand. I don't know… he managed to scratch me with a knife hidden in his shoe, but look, you can't even see it anymore," he said, leaning over and pulling the neck of his shirt open a bit.  
  
He was right, I couldn't see anything. He must have heard my sigh of relief, because he looked at me with this funny little smile he gets sometimes.  
  
"Anyway, I beat him around a bit and left him there. I told him I'd be back to talk with him later. I'm not sure what's going to happen; I mean, I suppose he could tell everyone in the department that I'd attacked him or something. If he's still around, I'll talk to him and try to find out what he knows. I just didn't want to kill him, that's all." I nodded at him. Maybe it would have been the smart thing to do.  
  
"But your partner?" I asked. "That's bad. I know you got along with him."  
  
"Yeah," he said. "I sorta feel it, you know. I mean, I'd trusted him to cover my back, and he turned around and tried to stab me in it instead."  
  
I smiled a bit. It was sort of a bad try at humour, but I know that Ranma was probably hurting more about it than he was letting on.  
  
"That's actually sort of why I wanted to talk to you tonight," he said. "I mean, I haven't been telling you much about stuff that's happened to me before I got here, so I want to make sure that you don't find out something later that's gonna hurt you. Also I gotta make sure that if you run into someone who's out for my blood, you don't get hurt by them. So I'm just going to tell ya everything, and hope that you'll still want to hang out with me when I'm finished."  
  
"Ranma, you don't have to tell me everything if you don't want to," I started to say.  
  
"I don't know," he interrupted. "I've been keeping you from getting too close this whole time, and keeping you outa my life. Not cause I don't want you there, but because my life can be really, really weird, and I didn't want you to have to deal with it like I have to. But… umm… I'd sorta like to make you part of it. You know… more." He trailed off, looking down at his hands.  
  
I didn't know… had he just… but why me? I stared at him there in the moonlight, thinking about what he'd just said, but not really understanding yet.  
  
"But I've got some stuff to tell you, and some stuff to show you before you make any sort of decision, ok?" he said.  
  
And then he opened up a thermos, and dumped some water over his head.  
  
And turned into a girl.  
  
I stared at her. She looked back, almost wringing her hands. She was terribly nervous, I could tell that. I looked her in the eyes, and she flinched, looking down at her hands. She didn't really look anything like him, except the eyes.  
  
"Ranma?" I asked. I'd seen it, but… But… "Wait, I've seen you before," I said. "You were at that restaurant two weeks ago where they had that problem with the washrooms, and in that ice cream parlour too! And you were there in the street market sneaking around with that funny fake nose and glasses on after they had that accident with the fire hydrant!" I looked as she seemed to shrink into herself more.  
  
"Ranma, it is you!" I said. I started to giggle, and then laugh at her. At him.  
  
She looked up at me, surprised. She opened up the other thermos and poured some more water over her head, and just as suddenly, she was back to being a he.  
  
I just laughed harder.  
  
"Kirika… umm… are you ok?" he asked.  
  
Obviously he thought I couldn't take it. Maybe I couldn't.  
  
I lurched forward and wrapped my arms around him.  
  
"It's ok Ranma," I said. "I… just…" I felt his arms around me then, just lightly, barely touching me really. It was enough though.  
  
"It's some sort of magic, is it?" I asked. I felt him nod. I closed my eyes and twisted around, burrowing into his arms, feeling the warm wetness of his shirt on my cheek.  
  
"It makes things almost easier for me," I said. "I couldn't understand why someone like you wanted to spend time with me. I've loved being with you, and you kept seeing me again and again, and now you said what you did about… well… being part of my life, you know, and I just couldn't believe it. I mean, why? I've done so many terrible things, and I'm such a terrible person. But I understand now," I stumbled, trying to find words. "You changing… it's magic just like meeting you that first day."  
  
I hoped tears wouldn't make him change, because I was crying now.  
  
"And Ranma… I like you… so much."  
  
Then his arms tightened around me as he pulled my closer to him, and I relaxed. Something inside me that had been tensed up sort of unclenched, and I wondered how I'd thought I was comfortable ever before in my life. I could feel Ranma relaxing as well; he must have been really nervous.  
  
"Kirika, you aren't a terrible person," he said. "I mean, you've been thrown into the middle of some pretty bad stuff, and I'm sure you've done stuff you ain't proud of, and me too. But you aren't terrible. You're fighting to get someplace better than where you are now."  
  
"Anyway, I don't think I'd like you so much if you really were terrible," he added.  
  
I looked up at him, a bit overwhelmed. I looked into his eyes until I was blushing so badly I had to look down again. I must have looked terrible with my hair messed up, my eyes all red from crying, and a big dorky smile on my face.  
  
"Anyway, so I'm sort of fighting for the same thing you are, but I thought I had to do it totally on my own," he said. "But maybe the best way to do it, you know, since we're fighting for the same thing, would be to, you know, fight for the same thing, except together, and you know… together." He trailed off.  
  
Out of all he'd said, there was only really one word that was important: together. Gosh. And he liked me.  
  
Lots.  
  
He was still floundering around looking for more words when I looked up at him again.  
  
"Why don't you tell me why you change into a girl when you get splashed with water, and we'll go ahead from there, 'k?" I asked.  
  
"Well, it's sorta a long story," he said, and unwrapped his arms from around me so I could get up.  
  
"We've got time though, right?" I said. I smiled up at him, wrapped my arm around him, and got comfortable.  
  
He looked surprised for a bit, then blushed, and wrapped his arms back around me.  
  
And he told me his story, and I told him mine.  
  
When he'd said that he had a weird life, he really wasn't kidding. Most of his story was strange, and sort of funny in a lot of places, but then things started to get a bit out of control, and then a lot out of control. The last few years of the story weren't funny at all.  
  
And then there were all his fiancees. I suppose it should have bothered me, but it all seemed to be part of another world he didn't live in anymore. We were still sitting up there on the roof when the sun started to come up, mostly thinking, and absorbing all the information we'd shared with each other.  
  
"I suppose soon it'll be time for me to go to work," he said. "I'm a bit worried I'm gonna get there and they'll all want to blow my head off or something. I mean, Frank could have told them anything at all after I left yesterday."  
  
"I'd suggest that we get Mirelle to contact some of her informants and see what she can find out, but I'm not sure we have time for that," I said.  
  
"Yeah. I guess I'll just have to head there and see what happens. Don't worry though, even if they toss me in a cell, there ain't a jail around I can't bust out of."  
  
"Is it normal for a policeman to say something like that?" I asked.  
  
"Urk. Got me there," he said with a grin. "Anyway, even if the lockup is really high security, it'll cause a bit of confusion when they find a girl in the cell instead of me. See, when that happens I can just pretend that bad 'ol Ranma trapped me in there and get them to let me out."  
  
"Ranma, you must promise me never to clasp your hands together like that and make your eyes go big and glinty when you're not a girl."  
  
"Right, heh heh," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
"I'm just teasing," I said, and smiled at him. "Anyway, get off to work, and I'll see you this afternoon, that is… if you…" I trailed off as I realised what I'd just assumed.  
  
He gave me a hug, and murmured in my ear. "Of course I'll see you this afternoon. Now go get some sleep." He pressed a quick kiss on my cheek, and then he was away. I heard him running down the stairs in our building, and then watched as he ran off down the street towards his apartment.  
  
I wandered back in to our apartment. I think I still had my hand up against my cheek when I fell asleep.  
  
I woke up about seven hours later, feeling incredibly well rested. I fixed myself a little snack, and then headed up to the roof again.  
  
I started into what was now my usual warm up of a couple sets of Tai Chi. I thought about last night. I felt like I was lighting up with a warm, happy glow, just like some kind of light bulb.  
  
A couple minutes later that warm happy glow got shut off just like it was attached to a light switch.  
  
There was someone watching me.

* * *

**  
End Chapter 10 **  
  
-Just a note at this point, Ranma has never sparred full out against Kirika, and she hasn't seen any of his special techniques in use. As a result she and Mirelle really have no idea about what Ranma going full out would do at this point in time. By the same measure Ranma might have seen some crime scene photographs but doesn't fully understand what Kirika is capable of.  
  
-Going back to a comment I made at the end of last chapter… wow… I wasn't certain what Kirika would be feeling for Ranma until I started writing. Then I thought about what you know about her life based on the series, and I figured that maybe her feelings would be deeper than I'd figured on before. Don't worry that a bit of emotion is going to turn Kirika into a softy though. I tried to convey a bit in this chapter how she'll react to threats to Ranma.  
  
-Ok, my first cliff hanger. I must be entering the Big Time for real now! Next chapter Ranma's gonna get stuck as a girl, and then meet up with Sailor Moon! Pretty Magic Girl Ranma, Make Up! Ahem. No, none of that's gonna happen. Promise. (well at least not in this story) Sorry about the cliff hanger even… I'm not into them usually. It's just a good place to end the chapter, and find out what's happened to Ranma. 


End file.
